A Feeling Unknown
by AnneM.Oliver
Summary: Draco couldn't forget the past & Hermione didn't want to remember. They started as enemies, became friends, fell in love, & then somehow became enemies again, and neither really knew why. Together they'll help the other heal, & perhaps fall in love again.
1. 1 Breathe in, Breathe out

All characters belong to JKR

**Summary:** Was it more painful to remember or to forget? Draco Malfoy wanted nothing more than to forget how to feel. Hermione Granger wanted to try to remember what it felt like to feel. Their pasts were intertwined and were the reason for their ambiguous feelings, and yet perhaps they could both help each other, with feelings unknown. Dark subject matter, deals with rape and suicide.

**A Feeling Unknown**

By

Anne M. Oliver

**Chapter 1: Breathe in, Breathe Out:**

Breathe in, breathe out. It was a pity she had to remind herself to breathe, but she felt as if the walls were caving in and she was suffocating, and the only thing that broke her from her despair was to remind herself to breathe in, breathe out. She took her own advice, taking a deep breath in, and another one out. She repeated the action once more. Soon, she felt calm enough to enter the house.

She hadn't been to this house in three years. It wasn't that she had been too busy. She kept promising that she would come soon, but she hadn't, and now it was too late. She wouldn't have come now, but she really didn't have a choice in the matter. She walked in the foyer and noticed that not much had changed. The same grandfather clock, which chimed every hour, was still in the corner. The walls up the stairs were still lined with pictures of her childhood. She took a step forward, but faltered. She wasn't sure she could do this alone, yet whom else did she have, but herself.

She walked into the living room and looked at the floor. She wondered where they found her. Was it there, by the couch? Perhaps over there by the fireplace. Hermione looked at the fireplace. Her trophies and ribbons adored the mantel. Her mother was proud of her. Hermione wished she felt the same pride for herself that her mother felt for her.

She stopped in the narrow doorway, which led to the other sitting room. When Hermione was younger, this was her favourite room. The telly was still in the corner. Her father's chair still by the wall. She walked through this room to the dining room. She opened the pocket doors, and gasped. Somehow, and she wasn't sure how, but somehow she knew this was where they found her. She turned quickly to run out of the room, a strangled cry on her lips. She ran all the way outside, and into a strong set of arms. She didn't even care to whom the arms belonged. She just needed someone to hold her. Anyone.

Her mother was dead, and it was all Hermione's fault.

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When Draco Malfoy got to work this evening, it seemed like a typical enough day. Nothing special. He was already bored. He almost took the day off work, but at the last moment, he decided to go in. He knew that Potter was on his honeymoon, and that Weasley was off sick. That meant they would be short handed. He hadn't been an Auror long. Not as long as Harry and Ron. He felt he had a lot to prove to the others. After all, old prejudices died hard.

A bloke by the name of Timmons snuck his head in the door and said, "Is Potter here?"

"Honeymoon," Draco said.

"Are you the only Auror here?" he asked.

"Well, besides you, I suppose I am. Most of the others get the comfortable day jobs. What's up, Timmons?"

"There's been a murder," the younger man said.

Draco stood. "Do we know who?"

"We need Potter," Timmons said.

"Bloody hell, man, just tell me. I'm the senior Auror on duty," Draco said, frustrated as hell at the lack of respect. It was nothing new, but it still frustrated him.

"A woman by the name of Dr. Evelyn Granger," Timmons said.

Granger? Could it be a relative of… before Draco could finish his thought, the other man said, "It's the mother of Hermione Granger. A Wizard killed her. We have to get there before the Muggle Police."

At the crime scene, Draco and two other Aurors searched for clues, while another Auror called their contact at the Muggle Police. Hell yes, she was killed by a Wizard. There was no denying that. One only had to look at the body to know that. Besides, there was a witness. Apparently, the gardener walked by the window, saw a flash of red light through the windowpane, ran up to look in, and saw the killer disapparate.

The gardener was a squib. It was almost too perfect. If he had been a Muggle, they would have all sorts of additional problems. As it was, problem number one was to tell Hermione Granger that her mother had been killed.

Draco walked into the living room and picked up a picture of Hermione from the side table. She was a teacher now. She apparently worked for a Muggle University. His thumb grazed the frame surrounding the photo.

His mind wandered to a time when they were young.

It was the final battle. Three Death Eaters cornered her. He didn't want to remember this nasty little memory, but seeing her picture forced the memory to the front of his mind. Thankfully, the sound of Timmons calling his name from the other room broke his concentration, and he forced the memory back down.

He walked toward the other man and he said, "The Muggle Detective wants to know if we want to tell the daughter, since she's a witch."

Draco didn't want to tell her. Damn Potter and his damn honeymoon. From what he had heard, Hermione had all but given up magic. He knew that occasionally Potter received a letter from her, but he also knew no one had seen her in years.

No, he didn't want to tell her. Nevertheless, he would.

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Draco and Timmons, along with the Muggle detective, decided to give Hermione some time alone in the house. Her mother's body had already been removed. It was a damn cold night, and snow was starting to fall. He decided it wouldn't hurt if he stepped inside the foyer, for a bit of warmth. He approached the house just as Hermione ran outside and straight into his arms. He held the hysterical woman and he didn't know what to do, or how to proceed. He was never good at comforting people. He patted her back awkwardly. Earlier that evening, when he went to tell her about her mother's death, it was raining, almost sleeting, and he drove up to her house in a car, since she lived in a Muggle neighborhood.

He rang the doorbell. A moment later, he saw movement in the window by the door. He knew she had looked out. He knew she had to recognize him. It was painstakingly cold, and he just wanted to get the deed over with already. Open the door, Granger, he willed. Open the door.

She did.

"Malfoy?" she asked. She sounded concerned already. Hell yes she would be concerned. She hadn't seen him for years. Did she even know he was an Auror?

"Is something wrong? Why are you here? Is it Harry or Ron?" she asked.

Yes, she knew he was an Auror.

He said, "May I come in, Gr, Hermione?" He almost said, 'Granger'. He should have. Just the fact that he used her given name caused her face to drain of all blood. She took two deep breaths, almost as if she was willing herself to breathe in and out, and she opened the door to him.

Then he told her.

Then her world changed forever. Again.

Now wrapped in his arms, really, a stranger's arm, trying to seek comfort there, she felt lost and confused. Why would anyone want to kill her mother? Her mother was a good person. A lovely person. A well respected member of the community, whom Hermione hadn't seen in over three years.

"I don't know what to do," she said.

"I don't know what to tell you to do," Draco said, holding her.

"Where do I go? Should I go home? Do you need me here? I can't stay here at her house, knowing she was killed here. I have to call a funeral parlor. I don't know how to plan a funeral. I was young when my father died. What do I do?"

He stroked her hair, and all he could say to comfort her was, "I don't know," not that those were comforting words. He continued to stroke her hair, until her crying subsided. "You need to stay close for a few days," Draco said, finally going into Auror mode. "We need to question you a bit. If you want to go home, that's fine. We can come there to speak with you."

"I don't want to be alone," she said sadly.

"Do you have anywhere else you can go?" he asked. Please say yes. Please say yes.

"No," she said.

He was afraid she was going to say that. Without asking permission, and without regards to the fact that they were in a Muggle neighborhood, Draco disapparated them both on the spot. Hermione seemed unaware when he removed his arms from her body and said, "Home, sweet home."


	2. 2 All Alone with Someone

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 2: All Alone with Someone**:

She let the warm water of the shower drift over her body. She felt anesthetized and confused. Why would someone kill her mother? More importantly, why would a Wizard kill her mother? Was it someone with a grudge against Hermione? These and other dark thoughts swirled around her mind, and mingled with another thought. She was finally alone. It was what she told everyone, even herself, that she wanted when she went into her little self-imposed exile more than three years ago. Now that the option of being alone was no longer an option, but a fact, she wasn't sure she could face the world alone.

What's more, she wasn't sure she wanted to be alone anymore, and now it was too late.

She sat down in the tub, and cried, while the dirt, grim, soap and suds washed down the drain, swirling along with her tears, fears and pain.

Draco stood outside his bathroom door, torn. He was useless at times like these. Always was, and what was more, this was Hermione Granger. He had no words to comfort her. Would she even want comfort from him? He hadn't seen her in three years. From what Potter had said, no one had seen her in that amount of time, not even her own mother.

Yet she was…in there crying for the woman.

When Draco's father died last year, he didn't shed a tear. He still hadn't, and probably never would. His mother was still alive, and he might cry if she died, but he was unsure. He rarely ever cried. He couldn't even remember the last time he cried.

Yes, he could. The night his best friend died, but he didn't want to think about that right now. He stood up from his place outside the bathroom door and walked down the little hall, through his kitchen, to his sitting room. He picked up the only personal picture he had on display in his little house. It was a picture of Theodore Nott and himself, taken at University. They had their arms around each other, standing in their graduation robes, and they were smiling. He was happy back then. So was Theo.

He hadn't heard her walk in the room, until she was standing right beside him. She took the picture from his hand and said, "You both looked so happy."

"We were, back then," he said. He took the picture back from her, as if it was precious, and he placed it back on the shelf above his telly.

She looked around the room, and said, "There aren't any other personal affects in this room. No other pictures or the like. Why is that?"

"Are you a therapist now?" he asked, with no real malice.

"No, a professor of English Literature," she said. He knew that. Apparently, his humour was lost on the girl. She stood in the middle of the room, wrapped in Draco's old blue robe. She must have found it hanging from the door of the toilet.

"Shall I go back to your house and collect some clothing?" he asked.

"No, I'm fine," she said. She continued to walk around the room, seemingly lost in thought and regret. She finally said, "Why do you live in a Muggle neighborhood?"

"Why do you?" he asked.

"I asked you first," she chided. She sat on his couch.

"It pissed my father off," he said, truthfully. "He disowned me anyway, when I became an Auror, so I thought, why not go for broke. Make him really regret the day I was born."

"I heard about his death," she said. She didn't add an, "I'm sorry." Draco was glad for that. He wouldn't abide anyone being sorry that such an evil bastard died. "Do you have anything I may borrow to sleep in tonight? I'll go back to my house tomorrow and collect some clothing."

He looked at her strangely and said, "How long do you plan on staying?" He wasn't aware this was a permanent, or even a semi-permanent, arrangement, even though he was the one who had brought her here.

She suddenly seemed embarrassed. She rose from the couch and said, "I don't know what I meant. I'm sorry. My neighbour will see my car out front, and think I'm home anyway, so she's bound to come looking for me when she reads in the paper about my mum. She's been a sort of surrogate grandmother to me. I should probably go back tonight." She started back toward the bathroom, where she left her clothing.

He didn't want her to go, and he wasn't sure why. No, he knew why, he just wasn't ready to admit the reason. He said, "Hold on, Granger. Stay tonight and I'll help you settle some things tomorrow. Anyway, I owled Potter while you showered and he owled back and he told me that he's coming home tomorrow specifically to see you."

"Where is he?" she asked.

My goodness, didn't she even know that her former best friend had gotten married four days ago? He said, "His honeymoon."

She looked slightly shocked. Then she said, "I think I recall getting an invitation. I don't think I sent back my RSVP. Wow. Married." She sat back down. She was without sensation, without feeling, in other words, she was numb. There was no other word to describe how she felt. Numb.

He walked to the only bedroom his little house possessed and he opened a couple of drawers. He found a long sleeve t-shirt, a pair of clean socks, and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. He usually slept in only his boxers, so he didn't know if these had even ever been worn. Then he walked over to his bed and pulled down the covers. He probably should change the sheets for her. He did that quickly, before taking the clothes to the other room. He threw them on the couch, beside her. She had the picture of him and Theo back in her hands. She was looking at it closely. He took it out of her hands, once again, and walked back over to the shelf. He placed it face down this time.

She said, "Do you miss him?"

He turned quickly. "Who?"

"Theo," she answered.

Hell yes he missed him. He was his only friend. It was a valid question, but also a stupid question in his opinion, but since she was suffering right now, he would let it pass. He walked over to her and said, "Put these clothes on, and then get to bed. The bedroom's beside the bathroom. The sheets are clean."

She picked up the socks, and then to his surprise, she laughed. "White socks? White t-shirt? What happened to the all black attire that you used to wear?"

"I've expanded my horizon. Now I wear black and white," he said with a small smile.

"Fine," she said. She took the clothing and headed toward the bathroom. When she reached the door, she said, "But I'll take the couch."

She walked back in the living room a moment later, shirt too long, socks too big, pant legs dragging on the floor, hair still wet, and he gasped, because he thought she looked prettier than he had ever seen her look. She sat beside him and said, "What are we watching?"

He had the telly on, but just for noise. He had a book in his lap and he said, "I'm reading."

"Oh," she said. She saw that his bookshelves were well stocked. He said, "Help yourself to a book, or you can turn to a different program. The noise won't bother me. I always have it on, for company."

He realized how pathetic that sounded, and was going to retract the statement when she laughed and said, "I do that all the time. Pathetic, huh?"

"Not really," he lied. She walked over to the bookshelf, but then said, "I think I'll just turn in."

"Well, goodnight," he said. He continued to read. She walked back to the couch, lay down on one side, in almost a ball, her back to the room, her face hidden in the pillows. He said, "The bedroom is by the bathroom, remember?"

"I want the couch. I sleep on the couch at home most nights," she said, turning so that she was facing the other direction. She looked over at him and she said, "Besides, I don't want to put you out."

"I won't be put out, and the thing is, I sleep on the couch about half the time as well, so it's not a big deal for me to sleep here tonight," he revealed. She turned to her back, her knees bent so that her feet wouldn't touch him. Instead of a verbal response that resembled speech, she started to cry again.

He placed his book down and stood up. She turned away from him again, and curled back into her ball. He went to the bedroom, found a blanket in the top of his closet, grabbed one of his pillows, and he walked back into the living room. He reached out to touch her shoulder. He just wanted to gain her attention, but instead of quickly touching her, and then removing his hand, he kept his hand where it was. He threw the blanket and pillow on the floor, sat down on the small piece of couch beside her curled legs, and he kept his hand on her arm. He rubbed her arm up and down, and said, "It'll be alright." He didn't believe it would, and since she was an intelligent woman he knew she wouldn't believe it either, but it seemed the thing to say.

They stayed like that for a long time, her silently crying, him beside her, lost in thought, that when her tears finally faded away, he looked at his watch and was shocked to see that it was after 1 am. He stood up, placed the blanket over her body, picked up the pillow and threw it on a chair, and he went to his bedroom. He kept the door open in case she might call out for him. You never know. She might need him.

He threw himself face down on his bed and went to sleep. It was the first night in a long time that he didn't have a nightmare about Theo's death. Instead, he had a nightmare about Hermione Granger, dark wizards, and the fact that _once again_, he couldn't protect her.


	3. 3 Trouble Sleeping

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 3: Trouble Sleeping:**

He was having trouble sleeping again. He looked at the clock and it said 4:11 am. He woke up every morning around six, so if he went to sleep right now, he could at least have two hours of sleep. Two hours of sleep was better than nothing, wasn't it?

She was crying again. Why did she have to cry again? So what? Her mother died. She hadn't even seen the woman for a long time, so did she even really care?

Draco felt awful having these thoughts. He knew she was heartbroken, and he knew that she cared. He had felt her pain before, so he knew it was genuine. That didn't mean if she didn't stop crying in one minute he wasn't going to go out there and suffocate her with a pillow.

Instead of murder, since he would probably be arrested, and the paperwork would be hell, he got out of bed and walked to his living room. He stood in the doorway to look at her.

She was quiet now. No doubt, pretending to be asleep. He walked into the room and sat in the chair in the corner. He sighed, threw his head back and sighed again. The room was still encased in darkness, but he knew that she knew he was there, even without the 'sighing'. Her ruse over, she turned on her back and said, "Did I wake you?"

No, he was awake. "Yes, you did," he lied. He didn't know why he wanted to magnify her pain. It was wrong of him. He wasn't that much of a heartless bastard was he? "But its okay," he added. She sat up and looked over at him.

"Why would a wizard kill my mother?" she asked.

How would he know? He wasn't a bloody fortunate teller. He was, on the other hand, an Auror, so he said, "We'll work hard to find that out. Not that it will bring her back."

Hermione said, "No, nothing will bring her back." She was quiet for many long minutes and then she stood up. She walked toward his front door. He sat upright for a moment, on guard in case she bolted, although he had to remind himself that she wasn't his prisoner, but his guest. She pushed the curtains back from the window at the side of the door and said, "I kept making excuses as to why I couldn't come see her. I had too much work to do, I had a symposium at the University, I had a cold, I had to do laundry. She invited me all the time. She called me all the time, and I did the same thing to her on the phone. I would talk for a moment, and then make up an excuse why I couldn't talk and hang up. She came to see me occasionally, but not often. One time I even pretended I wasn't home when she came."

"Why?" he asked. That was the golden question that everyone wanted to know. That was the thing he heard Weasley and Potter speak of all the time.

"You wouldn't understand," she said.

"No really," he said, crossing the room to stand beside her. He turned her around, a bit rougher than he meant to, and added, "Why did you stay away from everyone for so long? Why did you give up magic?"

"Oh, Malfoy, if anyone knows the answer to that it should be you," she said.

"What the hell does that mean?" he asked. No! He wouldn't let her put all of this off on him. It wasn't his fault! He lived with enough blame. He walked over to a bench by the door where he usually sat to take off his shoes. He sat down and said, "Fine, I guess I have some insight into your reasons, but they don't make sense to me. Why give up magic though? Why stop seeing your mum?"

She walked back over to the bookshelf where he placed the picture of him and Theo from University, and she looked at it again. "I have the same picture, you know."

"I know. You took it." He walked up to her and took it from her again. He didn't want her touching it for some reason. It made him feel even guiltier. He placed it on a higher shelf.

"I'm sorry. I won't touch it again," she said sadly. "I miss him too, you know."

"Sure," he said. He knew she did. She didn't have to tell him that. He said, "Do you still have the other picture you took that day?"

She looked confused for a moment. "What other picture?"

"Never mind," he said. He couldn't believe she didn't remember the other picture. The day she gave it to him, she told him that she had three copies made, one for him, one for Theo and one for her. Maybe she didn't keep her copy. "Go back to bed, Granger. Get some sleep. Today will be a rough day." He added the word, 'Please' in his head.

He went back to bed and sat on the corner. Something made his mind wander back to the final battle of the war. Three Death Eaters cornered Granger in a hallway in the dungeons of the castle. At the time, he didn't know who they were. He and Theo came upon them, just as one of them hexed her. Her shirt was torn down the front, and the three men were laughing.

At the time, he was confused. All he thought was, someone should help her, but he didn't know who that someone should be. He was afraid they were going to rape her. He knew they were going to kill her. After all, she was a Mudblood, and Potter's best friend. To kill her would be an honour for these men. To make matters worse, Theo ran off and left him. Now it was only him in the hall with them. She looked up from her place on the floor and said…

"Malfoy?" she said from the doorway of his bedroom.

He looked up. "Yes?" He was actually glad to see her standing there. He was always glad when something kept him from remembering unpleasant things.

"May I sleep in here?"

Was she kidding? He stood up and said, "Sure, I'll go to the couch." She took his arm. The feel of her hand on his arm both burned him and caused him to feel lightheaded. She let go just as quickly.

She said, "You don't have to leave. You could stay. Actually, I would like you to stay. I won't talk if you don't want me to talk, and I won't touch you in the least." She sunk into his bed and pulled the covers up to her chin.

"You're on my side," he said.

"Oh, excuse me," she answered. She scooted to the other side. She turned her back to him, but knew he joined her when she felt the mattress dip under his weight. She rolled back into a ball.

"No crying, okay?" he said. Again, he wasn't sure why he was being so mean to her. It helped relay some of the sorrow he felt for her.

"I'll try," she said.

"You do that," he retorted. It wasn't long until she was breathing steadily. He turned to his side, facing her back. He arranged the covers over them both and only after he was certain she was asleep, did he pull her over to him, and put his arms around her. He kissed the top of her head.

How many times had he dreamt of holding her in his bed at night, just like this, only under other circumstances? Too many times for him to count. He was finally on the verge of sleep himself, when he felt a drop of moisture on his bare chest. He rubbed her arm and said, "Fine, you can cry if you have to cry."

He didn't know what else to say. He was embarrassed that she was awake, and he was embarrassed that he told her not to cry, and he was embarrassed that he couldn't take away her pain, and most of all, he was embarrassed that he drove her away three years ago, and no one but him knew the reason why.


	4. 4 Bad things to Bad People

All characters belong to JKR, and that's the truth

**Chapter 4: Bad things should only happen to bad people:**

She stretched her arms over her head. The sun was much too bright this morning. Was the sun always this bright? At first, she was confused as to where she was. Then everything came crashing down on her.

Her mother was dead, and she was in Draco Malfoy's bed.

It was morning and it was time to face some unpleasant things. It was time for uncertainty again. She hated uncertainty. She always liked to know exactly what was going to happen and exactly when it was going to happen. She lived an orderly life, and she liked it like that. She hated anything that disrupted her order.

Ergo, she hated all of this.

She fell back on the bed, and covered her head with a pillow. She heard him come in the bedroom and then she smelled coffee. He said, "I thought about doing that very thing to you last night."

She threw the pillow off her head and sat up. "Do what to me?"

"Suffocate you with a pillow, but then I figured that I would be charged with murder, and the paperwork is a mess," he said. He handed her a cup of coffee.

"If you were the perpetrator, they surely wouldn't make you do the paperwork," she said, taking a quick drink, and then gagging and making a funny face. "Gee, that's strong."

"It's how I like it." He went to his closet and pulled out a clean shirt. He already had on the rest of his clothing.

She said, "Will there be a lot of paperwork for my mother's murder?" He winced. He knew he shouldn't have mentioned anything. She added, "Don't worry, I'm not crying right now."

"Listen, Granger," he said, slipping on a navy shirt, "You had every right to cry last night, and I was just joking with you."

"I know you really didn't want to kill me," she said. She threw the covers off and stood up.

"No, I wanted to kill you last night," he said with a grin. "I meant I was joking when I said that you shouldn't cry last night." Hermione huffed at him and walked to the kitchen. He followed and he said, "Breakfast is on the table."

She picked up a single piece of toast. She looked at him with the toast in her hand.

"What?" he asked, "Should I butter it for you?"

She put the toast back on the napkin, because he hadn't even put it on a plate, and she went toward the bathroom. She said, "I need to get dressed."

"Your clothes aren't in there," he said. "My elf took them to be cleaned."

She turned back with a smile and said, "You live in a small, one bedroom house, and you have an elf?"

"My mother insists, and it lives behind the incinerator in the crawl space in the basement," he said.

She looked shocked. Her mouth was open. He laughed and said, "You are so gullible. No elf, no basement even. However, your clothes are neatly folded on the vanity in the bathroom."

"Funny," she said, though she found it not at all amusing. She dressed, brushed her teeth with her finger, and then combed her hair with his comb. Walking out of the bathroom she said, "What do we do first?"

"Do you want to stop by your house first, and change into clean clothes? If you do, that's fine. We have to meet Potter at the Ministry at 8:30," he told her. He helped her with her jacket and she nodded.

"That would be nice. We'll have to drive again. I left my car at my house, if you remember. You do have a car, right? I'm just assuming, because you drove to my house last night," she stated, and then reminded, "I live in a Muggle neighbourhood, so we'll have to drive."

"Can't we apparate?" he asked.

"I have wards up," she said.

"You can't even get by them?" he inquired.

"They are just general wards. No one can. I didn't ever want to be tempted to use magic for convenience," she stated, heading toward the front door.

He put his coat on and said, "Yet you can use it to keep yourself from using it. Wards are magic, Granger. Bit of a hypocrite, perhaps?"

She smiled and said, "That's merely semantics."

"That's a yes, Granger," he said. "And I do indeed have a car. A very nice one. A bit of a sports car, actually, not that stupid black Ministry car I used to pick you up yesterday." He walked over to his shed, his feet crunching in the new layer of snow, and he opened the door.

"You have a black Porsche?" she asked with surprise when she saw the shiny black sports car.

"Yes, so?" he said. He opened the passenger door for her.

She chuckled and said, "Your neighbours must think you are so strange. You live in a small bungalow, and your car is worth more than your house."

"Funny, Granger." He started the car and pointed to his perfectly straight face. He said, "See my smile. OH, that's right, I'm not smiling, but I assure you, I'm laughing on the inside."

She continued to laugh. It felt good to laugh. She needed to laugh. She couldn't even remember the last time she laughed. She said, "You always were good for a laugh. Remember that time you and Theo and I…"

Before she could say anything else, he stopped the car at the end of the lane. He came to such a sudden stop that she jerked backwards in her seat. He turned and looked at her and said, "No offense, Granger, but I really don't want to talk about Theo with you. Please understand. It's not an insult to you. I just can't do it, okay?" He started the car again and turned on the next street.

She nodded and turned her head to look out at the passing scenery. He felt badly again. He was mean to her again. Her feelings were acute right now. He should have more understanding. He looked over at her, and she was trying hard not to cry, he could tell.

Fine he thought. They can talk about Theo. Why can't they talk about Theo? He knew he thought about the man almost every day. She probably did, too. He said, "I remember one time you cooked for us, and you were so proud, and you made this bloody wonderful pasta salad and you served it to us on these fancy, little, glass plates, and you poured the wine, and poor Theo, bless his soul, was the first to try it."

She smiled and turned to him. She remembered this incident clearly.

He continued, "And then he took a big old bite, and we all heard this crunching noise, and he cried out in pain, because he broke his tooth. You looked at him shocked and he yelled, 'Hermione, you were supposed to cook the pasta first!' and you threw your fancy cloth napkin at me, because I was laughing, and you said, 'the cookbook didn't say that!' That was so funny."

She laughed along with him and she said, "Well, I'm sorry, but it didn't say to cook the pasta anywhere in the instructions. Shouldn't that be like step one or something? Cook the pasta for the pasta salad?"

He smiled and said, "Maybe they just assume that people are smarter than rocks."

"His poor tooth," she said, laughing.

They continued their drive for almost another hour. When they finally reached the exit to her turn off she said, "I hope my next door neighbour, Mrs. Delano, isn't too worried about me."

"Why would she be worried?" he asked.

"Well, she's become like a surrogate grandmother to me, and she looks in on me every few days, and she's bound to have read about my mother's death in the papers. I mean, it will be in the Muggle newspapers won't it?"

He nodded and said, "Probably. The Muggle police had to be called, and she will have to be treated as a homicide by them, too."

She hated how that sounded. Homicide. She continued with, "Yes, well, I live in a double, she's next door, and she's bound to see my car out front. She probably thinks I'm home. She's probably been banging on my door since this morning."

She directed him to her street, but when the reached the end, there was a barricade. Draco parked the car and Hermione got out and walked up to a police officer before Draco did. She asked the young woman, "Excuse me, officer, but I live on this street. What's going on here? Why the barricade?"

"There's been a gas explosion. Two joined houses are fully engulfed as we speak," she said. "The fire trucks are there, but it's not a pretty sight."

Hermione looked back at Draco, and somehow, she just knew. He did as well. She ran past the barricade, and Draco was close behind. The young officer yelled at her to stop, but Draco yelled back, "It's her house!"

She reached as smoke, fire, and water consumed what remained of her house, and she could only stand and stare. She was more than numb. She was in a state of shock. Draco rushed up to her just as a firefighter walked up to her. "Excuse me, Miss, this is a dangerous area, you have to step back. There may be more gas in the air."

She turned to Draco for help. The look in her eyes was a look he had seen before, so he knew expressly what she wanted. She was pleading with him with that expression. Her look said, "Help me, Draco." Therefore, he did. He said, "This is her house."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Miss," the man said. Hermione turned to him and then she finally realized that it was also Mrs. Delano's house. She started toward the house, running actually, and Draco reached her before the firefighter did.

She turned to Draco and frantically said, "Mrs. Delano!" She turned to the officer and said, "Did my neighbour get out? The old lady that lives on the other side?"

"I'm so sorry," the man said again.

She sunk to the cold, icy, snowy ground and watched everything she loved, and held dear, and was precious to her, go up in flames, and then she fell on her face, and knew that she couldn't cry any longer. No more tears would come. She was without sensation, and completely numb. She didn't even know what she felt. She had a feeling unknown.

Draco took off his coat and placed it on her shoulders, even though she had a coat. He didn't know what else to do. Why was this happening? Why did bad things always happen to good people? They should only happen to bad people. He was beginning to wonder if it was really a gas explosion. What if her mother's death and this explosion were related? He would have to send some Aurors out later to investigate, once the Muggles all left.

He rubbed her back and said, "Get up, Granger. I'm taking you home."

She looked at him and said, "See, you're good for a laugh, because I don't have a home any longer. Not in any way, shape or form." He picked her up by her shoulders and steered her toward the car. One of the police officers told him that she would have to stay to answer questions. Draco felt like disapparating with her on the spot, but he knew he couldn't. He told the man he would merely place her in the car until they wanted to talk with her.

He took several steps ahead of her and then he reached for her hand and started once more toward his car. He gave her hand a little squeeze and he opened the door. He smiled at her and shut the door. Then, he looked up at the gray morning sky and he said, "What in the hell is going on here?"


	5. 5 Numb

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 5: Numb**:

She sat in a chair in the Auror's office, and the only thing she could do was to think about the definition of the word, "Numb". It was an adjective, obviously, but couldn't it also be a noun? Couldn't the word 'numb' replace the object in a sentence? She would describe herself as numb, (adjective) but she also felt that it more than just describe her. She felt as if it WAS her; therefore, it was a noun, or really a pronoun, replacing the noun.

She looked at Harry and Ron as they were speaking softly to each other, heads together, obviously discussing her case. She said, "Harry?" She didn't even recognize her own voice. He walked over to her.

"What?" He placed his hand on her shoulder.

"I know that the word numb means to be unable to feel or have emotions, to be incapable or devoid of feelings, which would make it an adjective, but don't you think it could be a pronoun, too?"

Harry looked at her as if she had two heads. He looked back at Ron as he sat on his desk. She moved to the side, looked at Ron and said, "What do you think, Ron?" He looked over at Draco's desk, where Draco was silently trying to avoid being a part of this conversation. However, he felt all three set s of eyes on him and he looked up.

He said, "Yes, Hermione. You can consider numb a pronoun if you want to do so."

"That's what I thought," she said. She stood up and went over to the door.

"Where are you going, Hermione?"

"I hardly know. I'm numb, remember?" she said. She sat back down.

Frankly, Draco thought she was beginning to lose her marbles. Harry had suggested she speak with a counselor, but she had been talking to people all day: First, the fire investigators at her house, then the Muggle police at her mother's house, then the Muggle police at her house, then the Aurors. When he suggested she speak to a counselor, she said, "I can't, I'm too numb to talk any more."

Hence, her recent obsession with the word.

Draco didn't remember her acting like this when Theo died. Of course, he didn't see her after Theo died. No, Draco was the one that became unglued that day, and she had more right to become unhinged than he did, after all, she was engaged to the man.

That awful day so long ago.

He didn't even remember her being this detached after what happened to her in the final battle.

Draco stood up and said, "I'm going home." He had, had a long, hard day, he was tired, and frankly, he felt a bit numb himself, in the adjective sense.

He said, "Are you coming, Hermione?" as if it were a normal thing to ask.

"Coming where?" she asked in return.

"Home."

Harry caught his breath. Ron stood up beside Harry. However, Hermione Granger stood up and said, "I don't have anything to sleep in. Can I borrow something again?"

"Sure," he said.

He took her hand. Harry took the other, essentially stopping them. "Wait. She can come home with me."

"You're a newlywed, Potter," Draco reminded him.

"Ginny won't mind," Harry said. "In fact, she told me to bring her home. She didn't want her to go back to her mother's house."

"If she would rather stay at her mum's," Ron started, "I'll stay with her."

Hermione suddenly wasn't so numb, and a look of horror graced her face. Draco thought Weasley was a wanker, but then that wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Draco said, "She doesn't want to go back there. Anyway, must I remind you that it's a crime scene?" He dragged Hermione out to the hall.

He whispered in her ear, "Do you want to come home with me?"

She nodded slowly.

He led her to the lobby where they went to an apparition point and then they apparated directly to Draco's kitchen.

He moved about the kitchen, to find them something to eat. He didn't know about her, but he was famished. She remained in the middle of the room, and he worked around her. He finally placed his hands on her shoulders and moved her to the side. He actually propped her against the wall.

He wasn't a sentimental sort, and he had no words of comfort for anyone, but he could see to her basic needs. He placed a plate of potatoes, ham, and eggs, on the table for her, another one for him, pulled on her arms, pushed her into a chair, and said, "Eat."

He wouldn't coddle her. She didn't need that. She just needed time to heal. Time healed all wounds, not coddling, or fake words of comfort, or "I'm sorry". She just needed time. Maybe some clothes and basic necessities wouldn't hurt either.

"If I go to the store later to get you some things, do you want to come along?" he asked. He could have worded that differently. He could have said, "do you want me to take you to the store to get some things?" but he felt if he said it like that, she would feel like he was going out of his way to help her, and he knew she didn't need anyone to help her.

She just needed time. Remember? Then he realized that it had been three years since Theo died, and she didn't seem completely healed from that. Goodness, she might never heal from this.

She said, "Just get me what you think I need." She pushed her plate to the side, and stared over at the wall.

He picked up both their plates, neither having eaten, and he threw them in the sink. He said, "Stay here. I'll be back." Seriously, where did he think she would go?

To be on the safe side, he set up wards. Wards so she couldn't leave, but since the head Auror, Harry Potter, felt she was in danger, he also set up wards so no one but him could enter.

When he returned from the store, four large shopping bags in his hands, he found her sitting on his couch, that damn picture of Theo and him in her hand. He swore he felt like throwing the damn thing out.

They were all so happy that day. That was the day that Draco Malfoy had decided he was finally going to tell her that he loved her. That was also the day that Theo Nott **did** tell her that he loved her, and he did it first, thus changing all of their lives forever.

Draco placed the bags on the floor, took the picture from her hands, and returned it to the shelf. Perhaps he should put a sticking charm on it. He looked at the picture again. He smiled just remembering that day.

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

"_Act like you at least like each other," Hermione said as she started to take the picture. Theo placed his arm around Malfoy and Malfoy placed his around Theo. Hermione took the picture, and then said, "One more. Say cheese."_

"_Why cheese?" Theo asked._

"_I don't know," she giggled._

_They both said cheese and then they both laughed and she snapped the picture. "Now one with me and Draco," Hermione said._

_Draco felt a blush rise to his cheeks. He looked down at the ground and then back at her. He stood beside her and Theo said the same thing she had said. "Look like you at least know each other. Put your arm around her, Malfoy. Don't you even know how to pose for a picture?"_

_Hermione said, "He poses in front of his mirror enough." Draco smiled at that and gave her a playful pinch to her face. Then he put his arm around her, never having felt as happy as he had at that moment. Not in his whole, entire, pitiful life. He loved her and he felt as if this was a sign that he should tell her. She put her arm under his, around his waist, and said, "We're ready." _

_Theo said, "Say guacamole."_

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

That made both Draco and Hermione laugh, and that was when Theo took the picture. Draco turned to Hermione, and looked in her eyes, and he almost told her he loved her right then and there. Sometimes he felt that was his biggest regret, and the biggest mistake of his life. If he had just had the balls to tell her that he loved her right then, when he felt it the most, then she would have been his, not Theo's, and perhaps Theo wouldn't have died. It was a stretch, but it was what he truly thought. That was the reason he didn't have the picture of Hermione and him out for others to see. It was too precious, but it was also too painful. No, that picture was for his eyes only. He had it hidden where no one would find it.

He turned back to her and then picked up the bags. He placed the first one on her lap and pulled out some knickers. He said, "I really stink at picking out undergarments. The lady at the store helped me." She took them from him and placed them beside her on the couch.

"I guess I should be thankful they aren't lacey, frilly things," she said.

He smiled and then handed her a couple of bras, without a word. She looked at the size, cocked one eyebrow at him, and said, "How in the world did you know my size?"

"I'm an excellent Auror," he said. "I investigate things, and then come to conclusions. I looked at things from all sides, formulated an educated guess, and then told the sales clerk your size. Plus, I've seen you naked before, remember?"

She smiled. For the first time since leaving her house, she smiled. He said, "There's a bag with toiletries: toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, deodorant, and the like. The other bags have jeans, shirts, and a couple of jumpers, some nightclothes, and a black dress."

"Are we going out to dinner?" she asked, taking out the dress and smoothing out the wrinkles.

It was for the funeral. He didn't know if she was joking with him, or if she really hadn't realized that. He stood up, took the dress from her hands, put the rest of the things back in the bags, and he said, "I'll put these in the bedroom." He went to his closet and pushed his clothes aside. He hung up the dress first. Was it insensitive of him to tease her about seeing her naked? Maybe she needed some normalcy. He knew he did. He remembered after Theo died, he would have done anything for people just to act normal around him. He would have given any amount of money if he could have talked to someone about it. If he could have just said, "Hey, it sucks, and it's my fault," then maybe he would have healed quicker. Hell, whom was he fooling? He still hadn't healed. Nevertheless, maybe he would have. Perhaps if Hermione hadn't run away after it happened, she would have been there for him, the way he was trying to be there now for her.

He wasn't even sure she deserved his sympathy. As he hung up another jumper, he felt awful for thinking that thought. She was in more pain than he had ever been in. She felt the same thing he felt when Theo died, and now she was feeling it all over again.

She sat back on the couch, and as her numbness began to fade from her view she realized why he bought her the black dress, and she yelled to him from the other room. "I'll need black shoes."

He stood by his closet, a hanger in his hand, and he said, "Damn, I forgot shoes."


	6. 6 The Moment Time Stood Still

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 6 – The Moment Time Stood Still****:**

Standing by her mother's open grave, Hermione had one thought: time was standing still. It wasn't moving forward, and it never moved back, though sometimes, like now, it stood still.

If Hermione had the time turner she had in third year, she would go back to that year and change everything. Maybe she would go back to fifth year. No later. To go back later would mean that she would have to live through too many horrors. In third year, Voldemort was still just a vacant, far off threat. Her father was still alive. Of course, her mother was still alive, and Harry Potter was her best friend.

In her heart, she knew that was the only thing that was the same.

Harry Potter was a hero in the eyes of many. He was a kind, decent man, who more or less saved their world. However, to Hermione Granger, he was still just one thing: Her best friend.

He arranged everything for her mother's funeral. She didn't have to do a thing. She assumed he even paid for it. While she would never ask him that, it didn't matter because if he did he wouldn't let her pay him back anyway. Draco bought her dress and shoes, so in his own way, he helped as well. That was how things often were. They both had helped her throughout the years. Harry out in the open, where everyone could see and acknowledge his help, and Draco behind the scenes, in quiet, who no fanfare and no recognition, which was the only thing the men had in common. Neither wanted recognition when they helped her.

Even though she hadn't seen Draco, Ron, or any of her other friends in the last three or so years, she had seen her mum, and she had seen Harry. Just here and there, occasionally. He always made it seem like an accident. "Oh, Hermione, do you shop at this market?" Or, "Funny running into you here at the University where you work". Hermione didn't mind the intrusion in her life. She knew it was his way of keeping tabs on her, keeping watch over her, and making certain that she was safe.

It was also his way at achieving atonement, at least in his eyes, never in hers. To her, no penance ever needed paid, but to him, he felt he had let her down the two times in her life she when needed him the most. With the death of her mother, the count was now three. She had never blamed him for anything, but she knew that didn't mean he didn't blame himself.

The first time was during the final battle, when he was in the Forest with the Death Eaters and Voldemort. He had his hands rather full, so how was he to know that three rogue Death Eaters had come back into the school, and had cornered Hermione Granger, and that what happened next was something she never wanted to remember, and worked hard to forget? It was something Harry Potter couldn't seem to forget, no matter how hard he tried.

The second time he wasn't there for her was when her fiancé died. It was the worst day of her life up to that point, and Harry wasn't there for her.

She never once blamed him. She didn't think of things in that context. She never assumed that he would blame himself either, but he did.

She knew in his own, self-effacing way, he blamed himself for what happened to her mother, when anyone could see it was her fault completely. Nevertheless, he blamed himself.

Moreover, he wasn't the only one who wanted to share in that blame.

Unlike Harry Potter, who blamed himself for NOT being there for her during the three worst times of her life, Draco Malfoy blamed himself for BEING there for during those same three times. He was the one that witnessed her attack at Hogwarts, and he was there when her fiancé died. Where else would he have been. After all, the man was his best friend.

He was also the one that was there when her mother died.

This time, all Harry could think was, 'here we go again'. Her mum died and he was gone, and who should be there for her but Draco Malfoy.

Her house was blown to pieces, and her neighbour killed, and to whose arms did she seek comfort, but Draco Malfoy.

It bothered Harry to no end.

It haunted him and disturbed him. It wasn't that he still hated Draco Malfoy, because he didn't. He disliked the man, but he didn't hate him. Still, this was Hermione. His friend and no one had a right to be there for her but him. Even though she tried hard to block everyone else out of her life for the past 38 months, five days, 12 hours and fifty-two minutes, Harry would not budge. He refused to be let go. He would always be there for her from now on, since he had failed her so miserably in the past.

Such was his life.

Today Hermione was grateful for the fact that Harry Potter was a bullheaded, self-centered, controlling, sweet, sensitive man.

Hermione wanted the funeral to be quick. She didn't want a bunch of people there, but she could hardly turn people away. Her mother had many friends. Her patients came to her funeral, her neighbours, her friends, her family, and every one of them told Hermione how sorry they were for her loss.

Hermione thanked them, believed them, but wanted nothing more than for each and every one of them to leave her alone so she could grieve in peace and quiet. Alone. Well, as alone as Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy would let her be.

At the graveside service, after the last person left, Hermione threw a single yellow rose in her mother's grave. She said a simple sentence over the grave. "Bye, Mum."

Feeling the sting of tears coming back to her eyes, she saw Harry standing by a black car waiting for her, then she saw Draco Malfoy, away from the fringe, standing behind a tree, pacing back and forth uncomfortable as ever, and she felt torn. She wanted to go to them both, yet she wanted to go to neither.

She started walking in the opposite direction. She had a silly, errant thought -whichever one caught up to her first could have her. She actually smiled. Then, she heard a man call her name. "GRANGER!"

"Well," she said aloud, "Harry would have said my first name." She turned to see Draco jogging toward her. She looked to her right and saw that Harry was opening the car door to leave. He figured that she had made her choice. She held up her hand to Draco for a moment, and then shouted toward Harry. "Harry!" He looked her way.

Then she smiled. He nodded and said, "You're welcome."

Draco walked back toward her and said, "Shall we go home?"

She wondered why he kept referring to his house as 'their home'. He had done that since day one, yet he acted irritated that she was there.

It wasn't always like that.

The first day she saw him in University he was running across the grounds and something that resembled a golden snitch was flying above his head. He jumped up to catch it, and when he landed, he crashed right into her, knocking them both to the ground.

He turned so he was lying face down on top of her. She was flat on her back. He noticed who she was right away. He felt embarrassed, and was about to apologize, when Theo Nott came upon them, pushed Draco off, held out his hand to Hermione, and said, "Sorry, Granger, but Malfoy's never had very good balance, and his manners are even worse."

She blushed, smiled, took his hand, and thus a friendship was born. A friendship among all three of them. An easy, affable friendship, at least on her part.

As their three-way friendships grew, she knew that she was secretly falling in love with one of them. Unknown to her, they were both secretly falling in love with her. Only one of them ever told her so.

What's more, the one who claimed he loved her wasn't the one in which she loved. Life was truly unfair back then, and in many ways, it still was.

"Do you mind if we go to my Mum's house first? I need to collect a few things from there and I don't want to go alone."

He agreed to take her there, but instantly regretted it when they stood on the back porch. They had to apparate back there, since the back porch was well covered from the view of neighbours. The reason he regretted it was that they had stood outside the back door for a full five minutes, not moving. Not moving one iota. The screen door was opened, a key was in her hand, he stood behind her, and that was it. Nothing else happened.

"Granger, it's cold out here."

"Give me a minute," she said softly.

"I've already given you five," he said. He moved away from her, because frankly, being this close to her was unnerving. He stepped down off the porch and pointed to a little wooden structure. He said, "Is that what I think it is?"

Hermione blinked and turned to follow the line of his hand as he pointed to a faded pink and white playhouse. She said, "The one and only."

"Oh, this I have to see," Draco said. He had heard the story about this little playhouse. She had once told Theo and him that this was the place where she had first snogged a boy. Yes, he had to see it.

He strolled through the back garden, and when he reached the place he said, "You are such a liar." She was right behind him.

"Why do you say that?" she asked.

"You couldn't fit in there alone, let alone with another human being," he said. "You didn't do the deed in there."

"The deed?" she asked, and then she chuckled. "The deed, in deed. There were no deeds done, just kissing." She opened the little house and walked on through the little door. She had to stoop over, because the ceiling was so low. He entered and had to stoop even more.

"No bloody way," he said, once they were inside. "You lied to us that day. Theo and I told you in good faith the time, the place and the person to whom we first kissed, and then you told us this outlandish story about a pink playhouse, cherry cordial, a boy named Donald, and you lied to us."

"I didn't lie. It happened right here, I swear," she said.

"You can't even stand up in here!" he said incredulously.

"We didn't stand up," she said back, blushing.

"Even on the ground there's no room. Was he a man of short stature? If he was, then other things might have been small, too, so I feel really bad for you," he said.

"He was normal height," she said. She would push him, but seriously, they were cramped in such a small space, so where would he go?

"Was he a figment of your imagination? Did Donald exist? Let me put it this way, Granger," Draco began, "Could other people see him, too?"

She said, "He was as real as Daphne Greengrass," reminding him of his first conquest.

He smiled and said, "Yes, she was definitely real." He looked back to her to gauge her reaction, but she was looking at something on the other wall. He turned slightly and saw that it was a picture of Theo.

She took it down, her hand passing by his head, and said, "The summer before he died we came here to visit my mum for the weekend. We got a bit pissed, and he wanted to see the world's famous playhouse, too, and we came in here, laughed, and giggled, until my mother came outside and told us to act our ages, and that we would wake the neighbours. As we were getting ready to leave the next day, he said, "Run out to the playhouse and see what I left you." So I ran out here, saw his picture taped to the ceiling, and I had to laugh. When I walked back out of the playhouse he was standing there and said, "Next time you kiss Donald O'Reilly in your little pink playhouse, you will look up and see my picture and think of me." I laughed and taped it back up there, and told him that who knew, I might have to have kiss him in here sometime to erase all the Donald memories away."

Suddenly, Draco was uncomfortable. He was uncomfortable at how comfortable he was with talking about Theo with her. He had worked hard to try to forget the man, be it an impossibility. What's more, he always assumed that Granger couldn't remember a damn thing about him, because from the day he died until four days ago when she held the picture of him at Draco's house, she hadn't even uttered his name to him. She didn't even come to the man's funeral.

Draco walked out of the little house and stood upright. It was snowing again. She walked out, and he noticed that she was stuffing the picture in her pocket. He took the keys, which she still had in her hands, away from her and practically ran to the back door. He opened the screen, unlocked the door, threw it open, and said, "Let's hurry up and get what we need and then get the hell out of here."

She said, "I don't need anything from there."

"But," he started, and then he stopped. Perhaps she had remembered enough for today. He nodded. Her cheeks were red from the cold, there were snowflakes clinging to her hair, and all he wanted was to brush away the snow, as if that would brush away her pain. He reached out and in a show of kindness, which he rarely emitted, he touched her cheek.

She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. She said, "Take me home, Draco."

He smiled. She called it home.


	7. 7 Spots, Granger

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 7: Spots, Granger:**

She came out of the bathroom in the same nightclothes she had worn the last four nights. **His** long sleeve t-shirt, **his** plaid pajama bottoms, **his** white socks. He bought her perfectly fine, non-revealing, pajamas, but she must prefer these. They gave her a sense that everything would be okay. She had washed them last night before wearing them, so at least they were clean.

He was making them some dinner. He cooked for them each night. He didn't mind. He liked cooking. When he cooked, he felt like he had control. He also could take all the credit when something tasted good and all the blame when it was bland, or too salty, or undercooked, or burnt. It was almost a religious feeling. It was real. No one else could take the blame or credit.

She never helped. She never got in his way. He would cook, he would set the table, and he would walk in the living room, where she sat and stared and did nothing. He would tell her dinner was ready. She would join him at the table. They would eat in silent companionship. Then he would wash the dishes. Sometimes he felt rather like her little house elf. He wouldn't mind if she picked up a dishcloth now and again. Of course, she once told him a long time ago that she would never wash dishes with him again, so perhaps she was just a woman of her word.

In many ways, even though she had been there for four days, it was if she wasn't even there. She wasn't an imposition. She wasn't a nuisance. She didn't make a mess. She had gone back to sleeping on the couch, so she didn't put him out. She never turned the channel on the telly. She only spoke when he spoke to her. She hardly ate anything, so he really couldn't complain about having to cook for her, because he would have to cook for himself anyway.

She was never in his way. He wondered if she was purposely going out of her way not to be in the way, or if perhaps this was just the way she was now. Maybe her three-year absence from all their lives had caused her to be like this. On the other hand, it also might have been a Godsend, because he wasn't sure he could have stood by seeing her like this for all those years.

He wasn't sure he could put up with it much longer now, either.

She was a total non-entity, just the way she had wanted to be. He could tell she had worked hard these past three years to make sure no one ever thought about her. It seemed she didn't even think about herself. It was as if she forgot how to be Hermione, while he couldn't help but remember her the way she was.

He wished he could tell her that although she worked hard to make herself invisible, he for one could never forget about her. He never had, and he never would. He remembered a time when her life was bright and vibrant. When her smile could light up a room. When she would say something funny, without knowing that it was funny, and how he would make fun of her and she would wrinkle her nose, and hit him on the arm, and then smile.

She smiled all the time back then. A real smile. Never forced or contrived. One other time she cooked dinner for him and Theo at her flat while they were in school, and it was a royal mess. She burnt the pie, she burnt the roast, and she even managed somehow to burn the salad. No, that last part was a lie. Draco made a joke that evening that she even burned the salad, and then they all laughed, and she jumped on the couch, hit him as hard as she could on his arm, which felt like nothing more than a gentle swat, and then she laughed that adorable laugh of hers.

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_Later that night, after Theo left to study for an exam, Draco helped her to clean up her dishes. He said, "Wash or dry?"_

"_I'll wash." She handed him a clean dishtowel, and she washed a glass. She handed it to him, he held it up to the light, and said, "Um, spots, Granger."_

_He placed the glass back in the soapy water. She washed it again, sloshing the cloth back and forth on the outside, rinsed it, and handed it to him. He held it up again, just to make her angry, bumped his shoulder into hers, and said, "Spot, Granger."_

_She gave him a look that could kill. He almost laughed at her. He placed the glass back in the water, put his dishtowel on the counter, and then he placed his hands on her hips. He felt a rush of joy just touching her in such an intimate manner. He pushed her to the other side of the sink and said, "I'll wash. You see, you have to wash the inside of a glass, too, Granger."_

_She gave him another look, which this time he had to laugh at, and he proceeded to wash all of the dishes, and dry them as well, because she sat at the table, legs crossed, foot bobbing up and down, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her face puckered, with her eyes set and her mouth closed._

_When he finished he threw the wet cloth at her head, and then he ran. She got up faster than he thought possible, and then he slowed down when they reached the couch, so that she COULD catch him. She tackled him and they landed on the sofa._

_He was on his side, arms covering his face, in case she decided to mare his good looks, and she slapped his arms all the while saying, "I will never wash dishes with you again! From now on you'll have to do them yourself!" She stopped hitting him and he moved his arms to his sides. He turned to his back, and noticed, almost painfully, that she was still sitting across his body._

_He wanted to kiss her so badly that he knew if he didn't move her off him in a second, she would also know how much he wanted to kiss her. He lifted her up, away from him and then he said, "What do you have around this place for dessert?"_

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

That was how he remembered her. That was the way he wanted to remember her. He wanted her to remember that Hermione, too. He turned from washing the last glass and noticed that she was standing against the wall, fading almost into the woodwork, and he said, "Do you want to go somewhere for something sweet? Dessert?"

"I'm in my pajamas," she said.

"So, either get dressed or come as you are. We'll be in a car. No one will see you. Live a little fun. Have some ice cream with me," he said.

"It's the middle of winter," she said.

"Hot chocolate then," he said. He folded the dishtowel, took her hand, and grabbed their coats. He threw hers to her, as he put on his shoes. He said, "Get your shoes on, or your feet with get cold."

"I don't want to go," she said. "Bring me back something."

"No way," he said while standing and crossing over to her. "I officially retire from being Hermione Granger's house elf. You need to start to earn your keep, missy."

He would drag her out in the snow without shoes if she didn't put them on right now. Perhaps since she had turned off her feelings, she wouldn't even feel the cold and snow. He almost preferred the crying Granger from the first two days, to this one. He had her hand in one of his, while he opened his back door to head toward his garage. He said, "Shoes or just socks, Granger, your choice, but we're getting out of here this evening."

"Am I a burden to you?" she asked.

Now why did she have to go ask a bloody question like that? He sighed and said, "Fine, come in your socks." He was going to say, "Fine, don't come," but he wanted her to come, and since he didn't want to answer that question, he had to say something. She would never be a burden; not to him or anyone, so why would she ask that question?

He grabbed her hand and pulled her outside, in her stocking feet, toward the garage. She didn't complain, she didn't yell and scream. Maybe she was numb. Maybe that could be her new nickname.

He opened the car door and practically pushed her inside. She hit her head on the car on the way in, and he didn't even apologize. If she were numb, she wouldn't feel it anyway. He jaunted over to his side, opened the door, started the engine, and then turned to look at her. She was rubbing the side of her head. He started to laugh. He had either to laugh or scream, so he chose to laugh. She gave him a look, which was reminiscent to a real Hermione Granger, "I'm peeved at you," look, that he had to laugh even more. He backed out of the driveway, but stopped when she opened the door to the car. She stormed out of the car and headed back toward his house.

She couldn't get back in without him, but he didn't want to be near her right now. She was so damn infuriating. Numb his foot! She was a spoiled brat.

He just wanted some damn ice cream. Why did she have to ruin everything? She always ruined everything. She was the reason for his estrangement from his father after the war! She was the reason he never married! She was the reason he felt awkward around his own best friend when he was still alive. She was the reason Theo died!

Draco always blamed himself, but now he felt like blaming her.

The problem was that the rational Draco knew none of this was her fault. It never was and it never would be. The even smaller rational part of him also knew it wasn't his fault, but if he couldn't blame her, he had to blame himself. Whom else would he have to blame? Theo?

Was it so wrong of Draco to want things to be settled between them? Was it wrong to want her back in his life, no matter the circumstances, no matter in what capacity? Even if it was just as a friend. He needed her back. It was an insult to them both for her to have asked him if she was a burden. If she was a burden, he would have already kicked her to the curb, but he didn't want her to leave, and he also didn't want her to be sad. Why couldn't he have a happy Hermione? She healed after what happened to her that day of the last battle. Why couldn't she heal from this?

As he drove around the block, he was reminded of all the times he went to find her over the last three years. He thought about it constantly, and he almost did it twice. He always worked everything out perfectly in his mind. He would find her, tell her how much he missed her, tell her that it was time for her to come to her senses, he would throw his arms around her, kiss her, and make everything alright.

They would be happy and together. They could think of Theo without feeling guilty. He could love her, she could love him, and all would be fine. If only she would have just gotten in the car, and come for some effing ice cream, maybe things still could be fine. He rounded the last corner of his block and drove back up his driveway. She was sitting on the stoop of the back door, her coat tightly around her, her legs bobbing up and down, her feet all but frozen. He rolled down the window and asked, "Vanilla ice cream or Chocolate? I can't remember which you prefer."

She stood up, opened the passenger-side door, and said, "I like toffee flavor, don't you remember?"

Yes, he remembered, and he was glad to see that she finally remembered something, too. He reached over with his wand, warmed and dried her feet, and then drove back down the drive.


	8. 8 Driving Lessons

All characters belong to JKR, really

**Chapter 8: Driving Lessons:**

Two more days had gone by, and the Aurors were no closer to discovering who murdered Dr. Granger than they were a week ago when they found her body. The Muggle police had even less clues. The only thing the Aurors were certain of was that Hermione's house was indeed blown to bits by quite unnatural means. Even the Muggle officials knew that it wasn't caused by a gas leak.

Hermione Granger was officially cleared as a suspect, as if she ever really was, and was now being watched for her own safety. Harry had received intelligence that someone out there had been hunting for Hermione for a while now. Apparently, a man had gone to her University and had been asking her coworkers if anyone knew of her whereabouts. Her neighbours reported that a similar man was seen hanging around her house for several weeks. When Harry and their Muggle police liaison asked for a description, they all said the same thing: it was a man, middle aged, nondescript, commonplace, and that was all they remembered.

Unknown to Hermione, Draco was now her official bodyguard. When Harry decided that morning that she needed to be watched 24 hours, and discouraged from going back to work, Draco, without looking up from the doodle he was drawing on a piece of paper at his desk, said, "She can stay with me."

It seemed logical. She was already staying with him, so she might as well remain. Harry said, "What about when you're here, at work? We need to assign a few men to watch her then."

Still not looking up, Draco said nonchalantly, "I'll tell her I'm taking some time off work. I'll stay close by her side."

Harry felt that was a bad idea. He knew how Draco felt about her. Few did, but he knew. Not that Draco had ever told him. He was sure that Draco had never told a living soul that he was once and maybe still, in love with Hermione. Nonetheless, Harry was a superb investigator. He also had excellent instincts. Draco wasn't fooling him. He also suspected that Hermione had always felt the same.

Still, she did need watched.

After another briefing on another case, Harry dismissed everyone, walked up to Draco, took the quill from his hand, which caused Draco finally to look up from his folly. Harry said three words. "Don't mess up."

Draco went home for lunch and said, "Honey, I'm home." He looked around the small bungalow for Granger, couldn't find her, and then said aloud, "I messed up already."

Hermione stood behind him and said, "Mess up what?"

He turned quickly and said, "Where were you?"

"I was under your bed."

When someone says something like that, a person just had to ask, "Why?"

"I dropped something, and it rolled under you bed. Then I heard you say, 'honey, I'm home,' so I thought it would be funny to hide from you, so I stayed there for a moment. I guess it wasn't funny. I'm sorry." She walked past him and sat at the kitchen table. "Why are you home during the middle of the day?"

"I felt ill," he said. That lie always worked.

"You don't look ill." Maybe it didn't work.

"I feel ill," he restated.

"Do you have a fever? When I was little, my mother would never let me stay home from school unless I had a fever."

"One, you aren't my mother. Two, this is my house so if I want to stay home I will, and three, sometimes a person can feel ill without a fever," he concluded. He walked over and opened his fridge, took out a butterbeer, and went to the living room. He turned on the telly, and pretended to watch. She padded into the room a bit later, and sat next to him. He still felt the need to elucidate, though she wasn't pressing him for an explanation, so he said, "I needed a mental health day." He had heard Muggles say that before, so he thought she would believe that.

"Are you my babysitter?"

There was no use trying to lie to her. It would serve no purpose. Although Draco always thought he was an excellent liar, she was always able to see right through it, so he said, "Yes, I am."

"Am I in some type of danger?"

"Potter thinks so," Draco said. He thought so, too.

"So my mother was killed because of me," she said. She stood up and went to the bathroom. She pealed off her nightclothes, which still consisted of the clothes he gave her to wear the first night, and she started the shower. She wasn't sure why she still wore the same things he gave her that first night. He had purchased perfectly good pajamas for her, but she derived a sort of comfort from wearing his clothing.

She also would stay in them most days until noon, but since he was home today, she would go ahead and get dressed. She also needed a shower. Not because she was especially dirty. She had taken a bath before bed last night. She just needed the sound of the shower to mask the sound of her tears.

She hadn't cried since the funeral. It was time to start again, which meant one thing. The numbness was wearing off, and she wasn't happy about that. She waited for the water to warm, stepped in his shower, pulled the glass door shut, and as she washed she cried.

Draco heard her crying. He was standing right by the door to the bathroom. His hands went to the doorframe, and he leaned his forehead on the wood. He banged his head on the doorframe in frustration. He was desperate to help her. He just didn't know how to do that. Number one, he had to get her out of this house for a while.

He knew that Potter had a salvage team go in to clean up her house, and though little was left to recover, what they did find was in two boxes in the boot of Hermione's car, which was now parked in Draco's drive. He waited for her to shower and dress, and when she walked back toward the kitchen, he took her hand, without warning or words, and led her outside to the back porch.

He pointed to her car and said, "Potter had it delivered earlier this morning."

"I know, I was here," she said. She put her arms around her to ward off the cold.

"Do you want to go through what they were able to save? Everything is in your boot," he suggested.

"It's pretty sad that my life is reduced to boxes in my boot," she stated. She started back inside and said, "Give it all away. That life is over."

He pulled on her arm and asked, "And what type of life are you left with if that one is over, because frankly, I think that life was pretty crappy, too."

He wanted to make her angry. He got his wish. Instead of yelling at him, or calling him names, she ran in the house, to the bedroom, and slammed the door shut hard.

He walked back in the house and stood outside his bedroom door. He said, "Hey Granger, since your car is a piece of crap anyway, what do you say I just give it to the poor? It might not even be good enough for them, though. I heard Potter say they saved a couple of books and some jewelry, a picture frame or two. I'll just put all of that in the rubbish, okay?" He stayed where he was. Waiting.

"Remember when I taught you to drive?" she asked through the door.

Where was her anger and indignation? He couldn't believe she wanted to go down memory lane right now. At least she was remembering. The way she was handling everything seemed off balance to him, but he knew that she could easily tilt either way now, so he would give her a wide berth. He sat outside the bedroom door and said, "You were a terrible teacher."

"Funny thing, that," she said, opening the bedroom door and coming to sit by him in the hall. "Theo thought I was an exceptional teacher and he was a quick study. You, on the other hand, had no aptitude at all. Your hand eye coordination was awful, you lost your temper, and I recall telling you to always pack a broom, since that was probably going to be your usually mode of transportation. I still can't believe you ever got a license."

"No thanks to you."

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

"_Now, Draco, I only agreed to help you because you promised me you wouldn't get angry, and here you are yelling at me already," Hermione said sitting beside him. "And you're clenching the steering wheel too tightly."_

"_It's not a steering wheel!" he shouted. "It's a bloody pillow! You took Theo driving in a real car and with me, you make me sit on a couch, pretend a can of tomatoes is one of the pedals, a can of peaches the other, and this stupid pillow the steering wheel!"_

"_Don't forget the umbrella. It's the gearshift," she said. _

_He bonked her head with the 'steering wheel' and she laughed. She said, "It's just that Theo is so even tempered, and less volatile than you are. I'm slightly nervous about taking you out on the street, and my car is brand new. My mother just bought it for me."_

"_I'm going to buy a black Porsche, if I ever learn which can of fruit is the bloody brake," he said._

_She laughed again, and leaned her shoulder into his. He looked down at her beaming smile and bright eyes and he tried hard to hide his smile. He made a driving sound with his mouth, then a braking sound. He pretended to put the 'gearshift/umbrella' into park and then he leaned back on the couch. He said, "Oh no, we're out of gas," and then he yawned, stretched, and put his arm around her._

_She started to giggle and said, "Where did you learn that smooth move, Romeo?"_

"_Muggle movies," he said, raising his brows suggestively. He said, "Do you want to snog?"_

"_No one comes right out and asks that, and besides, we don't need snogging lessons. We need driving lessons," she said. She noticed his arm was still around her, and it felt nice._

"_Perhaps you don't need snogging lessons, but I do. Teach me, Hermione," he said. "First, do girls like it when a bloke licks their lips while kissing?"_

_She felt flushed and tingly. He pulled her to sit back, so that she was back against the sofa cushions next to him._

"_I suppose," she answered._

_He reached over and brushed her hair away from her face with his right hand, his left arm still around her shoulders. He said, "Do they like it when a fellow blows in their eye?" He could hardly keep a straight face._

_She smiled as well and said, "Probably not. Maybe their ear."_

"_See, I do need lessons. Show me how they like men to blow in their ear," he said._

"_No," she said. She leaned over to pick the pillow up from the floor. His hand moved on its own from her shoulder, to her back. He moved it back up slowly and then back down, stroking her back. She held the pillow tight. Her belly was doing flip-flops. She wasn't sure what was happening, but she liked it. She had a secret crush on Draco. She had for a while now, and while it seemed he never wanted to be more than friends, lately he had been openly flirting with her. He always made numerous excuses to touch her. Could he, perhaps, like her back?_

_She licked her lips, swallowed, and turned to him. She handed him the pillow and said, "Here, take the steering wheel."_

_He stopped rubbing her back and he took the pillow from her. She was going to suggest that they go for a real drive, when Theo opened the door to his and Draco's flat and said, "I've got Pizza, who's hungry?"_

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

"I did finally take you out in a real car, and you yelled at me the whole time," she recalled.

"Your memory is as faulty as your teaching ability. You yelled at me the whole time. Don't run over the mother and child, Malfoy! That light means stop, not go faster! The police want a word with you, Malfoy?" he mocked. "You were a terrible teacher. You probably still are."

"My students like me, actually," she said. Suddenly, she turned more subdued, just like that. He was always sticking his foot in his mouth. She said, "I probably won't be able to go back to work right away, will I?"

"No, probably not a good plan," he said.

"Can we go to the University so I can tell the Dean in person? I'll ask for a leave of absence, because I think I owe him that much. He's been very kind to let me take this much time off work."

"Okay, let's go, but I'm driving," he said.

"Do you know which are the peaches and which are the tomatoes?" she asked.

He leaned forward and said, "Hell, Granger, not only do I know the difference between the peaches and the tomatoes, but I'm a whiz at snogging in the car now, too. Perhaps I can show you sometime." He stood up and offered her his hand. He would like nothing better than to show her that.


	9. 9 Intimate Moment

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 9: Intimate Moment:**

They were about to leave to go to the University when Harry walked up Draco's drive. Hermione froze. Draco walked up to his fellow Auror to find out what he was doing there.

Before Harry could explain why he was there, Draco decided to explain why they were leaving. "We were just leaving. Hermione wanted to go to the University to see if she can take some more time off work."

"That'll have to wait," Harry said, moving to the side to peer around Draco to look at Hermione. "How is she?"

Draco shrugged. "Why are you here?" Draco felt that was the more pressing question.

"I need to take her to her mother's house," Harry said.

"She won't go. She wanted to go there the other day, but then chickened out. She couldn't even open the damn door," Draco explained. He looked over his shoulder at her. She had to know they were talking about her.

"That can't be helped. I need her to see something, and I also need her help with something," Harry said. He walked past Draco toward Hermione.

Draco felt a sense of possessiveness rise in his heart and he reached out to stop Harry. Harry looked at the hand on his arm, and then back to Draco's face. Draco dropped his hand and said, "What does she have to see? I tell you she can't go back there right now."

"You can stay here, or go with us, but she has to go. We found signs that her mother's house had wards up. Just trace magic. We need to figure out who put them up, if it was Hermione or someone else, and who would be able to disarm them to enter. We also need her to see a letter we found at the scene. It's supposedly from Hermione to her mother. I need to see if it's genuine."

"Bring the damn letter here for her to see," Draco argued.

Ignoring his request, Harry walked back to Hermione, with Draco close behind. "Hermione, I need you to come with me. You need to see something."

"Where?" she asked. "What were you two discussing over there?"

"Your mother's house had wards up, did you know that?" he asked.

She smiled a bit and then said, "That's ridiculous. No it didn't. I didn't put any wards up. I mean, I did during the war, but they were lowered long ago. I wish I had put wards up and perhaps she would still be alive."

"No, we found trace magic that wards were definitely put up all around the house, and then lowered right before she was killed. I need you to come with me," he said. He reached for her hand.

She stepped backwards. "Why do I have to go there? I told you I didn't put them up! I don't know who would have done so! Even if I did, why would I have to go there? You can't see protection wards! I don't have to go there!" She continued to back up until her back was pressed against Draco's garage door.

Draco walked over to Harry and said, "She's right. It'll serve no purpose for her to go."

Harry whipped around and said, "Maybe it will help her to heal, Malfoy! Staying here, wallowing in sorrow, with you as her enabler, isn't helping! She needs to face things! She needs to move on. She can't hide away this time!"

Hermione stomped her foot and said, "Stop talking about me as if I'm not even present! I can't face going there again! It was too hard the first time! Just thinking about how terrified she must have been makes me so angry that I can't see straight! I walk in there and I imagine her body on the floor! Please don't make me go back there. Not yet!" She was shaking all over.

"You used to be strong," Harry spat. "Where's your courage? I remember how brave you were when your dad died. I remember how smart and resourceful you were when you helped me with the Horcrux search! I remember how brave you were during the final battle. Show me some courage, Hermione! Stop running away! Stop being a scared little girl and be the strong woman you used to be!"

One part of Draco wanted to hit the man in front of him for saying such cruel things to her, especially as her pain was so raw. He was pouring salt on an open wound. However, another part of Draco wanted to applaud the man and say, "Bravo!" He almost envied Potter's way of setting her straight. Where was he three years ago?

Hermione looked crushed. She nodded. Draco wasn't sure why she was nodding, but when Harry took her hand, he knew that she was agreeing to go.

Draco followed without question or invitation. Harry got in his car, and Hermione got in the backseat. Draco debated for one second, and then crawled in the back seat with her.

Their hands were both on the seat between them. Their little fingers were touching. He lifted his hand and was about to grasp hers, when she placed both her hands in her lap and looked out the car window.

They arrived at her mother's house and Harry and Draco got out of the car. She remained in the car for such a long time that Draco finally said to Harry, "Shall you pull her out, or shall I?"

As if sensing this was their plan, Hermione walked out of the car.

Harry walked up to the porch and opened the door with magic. Police tape was around the banisters. Draco ducked under the tape, just as Potter did, and turned to watch her as she did the same. She was careful not to touch the tape. Harry opened the door and walked in, expecting them to follow.

Hermione stood on the porch, turned to Draco, and said, "Did I ever tell you that I was the one that found my dad?"

Draco was afraid to ask her to clarify. He merely stood right in front of her and allowed her to elaborate. Harry walked back to the door and said, "Its freezing outside, come in."

Ignoring him, Hermione said, "I was sixteen years old. It was right after fifth year at school. I was to spend most of the summer with the Weasleys, but I came home for two weeks right after school finished. My mother told me that my father hadn't been well for the last few months. The truth was that he had been ill for a long time."

Harry shut the door and joined them on the porch. He had never heard this story either. All he knew was that her father died of a heart attack that summer, and she didn't even tell any of them until they were back to school that fall.

She took a deep breath and looked at the floor. She said, "He suffered from terrible depression most of his life. The thing was, he was the kindest, gentlest, funniest man I ever knew, but when he would have what my mother called, 'one of his dark spells,' he couldn't work, eat, or even function. He would lock himself up in his room for weeks at a time. Then, suddenly, my dad would reappear, and the sad creature that impersonated him would be gone. It was like that all my life."

"That summer was no different. My mother met me at the station by herself, so I knew my dad must have been having one of his spells. She took me home, told me she had some business to finish up with at work, because without my dad there she was extra busy and that she would be home in time to make dinner."

"I went up to my room and unpacked. I wrote to Harry and Ron, and then I read a bit. I played with the cat. I took a walk around the block. I decided to go make dinner for my mother. The truth was I was stalling. I was avoiding my Dad's room at all cost. I felt guilty about it, but seriously, he wouldn't have opened his door to me anyhow."

"My mother called to tell me that she would be late. I told her I already made dinner. She asked me to see if my father wanted anything to eat. I was afraid she would ask me to do that." She walked up to Draco, looked up in his eyes, reached for the collar of his jacket with both hands, and bunched the material tightly in her fists. She said, "I opened the door to his room, and he was already dead. He killed himself. He put a gun to his head and blew it away."

Harry gasped. Draco even flinched, but she remained calm. Her voice was so quiet, her tone almost silent, the men had to strain to hear her speak. "I'm not sure I even remembered that until now. I don't even know what I did after that. I suppose I must have called my mum. I might have called the ambulance. I don't remember." She let go of Draco's jacket.

She took Draco's hand and said, "I don't want to remember anything else. Please. Don't make me go in there. I don't want to remember anything else!" She was suddenly frantic again.

He pulled her into his arms. He kissed the top of her head. She didn't cry, she merely continued to mumble, "I don't want to remember."

Harry Potter felt as if he was witnessing an intimate moment that he shouldn't be witnessing. Draco had his arms around Hermione and was rubbing her back slowly, up and down, with one hand. Her head was resting on his chest. Her eyes closed. He was whispering things in her ear that were unheard by Harry. It was one of the most intimate things Harry felt he had ever seen and he wondered why he hadn't noticed it before now.

They were both still in love with each other.

Harry shut and locked the door and said, "Let's take her back."


	10. 10 Heaven

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 10: Heaven**

Harry drove Hermione and Draco back to Draco's house. Once again, she seemed devoid of feeling. Draco thought it was odd how she could turn her emotions on and off like that. One second she would be crying, the next she would be catatonic. One moment she would say she remembered something, the next she didn't seem to recall anything.

It was not only odd but also infuriating.

It was also a sign that she was healing, however slowly.

Harry went back to the Ministry and then he brought the note they found back to Draco's house for Hermione to read. It was written in her handwriting. The note said that she was coming to talk to her mum, and would arrive at 3pm on Friday, the 22nd of November, which was the day her mum was killed. It said that she would apparate. Hermione never wrote that note. It may have looked like it was in her handwriting, but it wasn't.

She handed it back to Harry, confused and scared at the same time. Her hand shook as she handed it back to him and explained to him that she didn't know anything about the note, and that she had never made plans to visit her mum. "Maybe I should have, but I didn't."

Draco stood by the couch and as Potter started to fold the note to put it back in his pocket, Draco held out his hand. Harry handed it to Draco. When Draco read the note, he felt a strangling sensation in his heart. He pulled Potter into the kitchen and said, "I'm the one that put up the wards at her mum's house."

"What? Why didn't you tell me before now?" Harry spat silently.

Draco took his arm again and led him outside. It was bitterly cold, and snow was coming down in a solid white sheet. Draco said, "I kept in contact with her mother, alright? It was my way of keeping in contact with Hermione, without her knowing it. Her mother let me know that Hermione was coming home, so I lowered the damn wards. Her mother thought that Hermione was finally going to forgive herself, and come home, and I thought that, too. I hoped it, anyway. It's my fault her mother's dead."

That last thought didn't even pop into Draco's head until that moment. He started to walk back and forth, digging a trail in the snow, his arms raised, ranting: "She'll hate me forever now! She'll never forgive me! Everything I've ever done has caused her pain!"

Harry said, "Stop it!" Draco took a deep breath to calm down and Harry added, "I won't have you taking the blame for something that isn't you fault, anymore than I would let Hermione do it! The both of you just need to stop blaming yourselves for other people's weaknesses and mistakes!"

Hermione stood in the door with both men's coats in her hands. She said, "Harry, Draco, do you want your coats? It's snowing."

Draco looked up and said sarcastically, "So it is." He pushed past Harry, past Hermione, who still stood in the doorway, and walked to his bedroom and slammed the door.

"What's wrong with him?" Hermione asked Harry as he took his coat from her.

"It would be easier to ask what isn't wrong with him," Harry said with a grin.

Hermione smiled. He leaned forward, placed his hands on her cheeks, and kissed her lips softly. "I love you. Take care of him. He needs you now."

Hermione watched as Harry disapparated away and thought that was a strange comment. Wasn't she the one that needed Draco, not the other way around? She turned to walk back in the house, Draco's coat in hand, when she saw him standing behind her. He had her coat. He said, "Let's go to that damn school and tell your boss you won't be coming back for a while."

"Only if I drive," she said.

He looked at the snow coming down and said, "Sure you can drive."

He drove. He would have let her drive, really, he would have, if it were her car they were driving, but this was his car, and he had to work hard for the money to buy this car, and it was almost a blizzard out here. Gone were the days of endless money and extravagance. When his father got out of prison, a mere seven months before he died, he really did disown Draco. His mother gave him money now and then, and he took it, but he knew that she wouldn't openly defy his father, even in death.

Someday when his mother died, he wasn't sure who would inherit everything, and he didn't really care.

His father disowned him because he was responsible for the death of one of the Death Eaters who attacked Hermione during the final battle. She killed the other. The third got away that day, but with the help of Draco, the man was prosecuted and sent to prison. Draco wasn't sure why his father balked at that. He gave up many names to get his sentenced shortened. It was a combination of the fact that Draco cooperated with the Ministry after the war, that he went to a Muggle University, and that he became an Auror, that his father disowned him.

He turned to look at Hermione as he drove. He started to think of that day again. He didn't want to think of it, but he did so constantly. There she was, cornered and scared. Theo and Draco were trying desperately to find a way to escape the castle during the ceasefire. They happened upon them by chance. Draco looked at Theo, Theo looked at Draco, and they both had different ideas. Draco was the one that wanted to leave her there. He wanted to run away and forget what he was seeing. He had already lived through her being tortured once in his home, and he couldn't watch it again. Theo whispered to Draco that they had to stay and help her.

Therefore, they drew their wands. They walked up to the laughing men. They assumed one of them might have already raped her. He was standing up, and straightening his robes, and her clothes were all torn and tattered. It made Draco want to throw up, and he swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. She was on the ground, bloody, bruised, and trying desperately to cover herself.

Draco pointed his wand toward the men. He turned to look at Theo, and all he saw was his back as he was running away. He turned back and she looked past the three men, who didn't yet know he was there, and she said, "Run, Malfoy, run."

She didn't care about herself that day. She wanted to save him.

Damn self-righteous Gryffindor.

Now as he watched her out of the corner of his eye, he thought, 'How much more does she have to endure?'

"Why do you keep looking over at me?" she asked as they continued to drive.

"Why are you looking at me, looking at you?" he asked back.

"So crazy, I swear, he can never just answer a question," she muttered to herself. "You always answer a question with a question! It's maddening!"

He laughed. "It'll be strange to be back on that campus again. I haven't been there since graduation," he said.

"I love that school. It was my lifesaver after Hogwarts, and in many ways, my lifesaver these past three years," she said. "There's a different Dean now."

"I would hope so," Draco remarked. "The man that was Dean when we went here was 90 years old back then."

They drove up to the faculty building and parked. He said, "Shall I come with you?"

"Do I require a guard here? Because if I don't, I would rather go alone. I need to go to my office and collect a few things, too, and I would rather be by myself."

He thought about it for a moment, but then said, "I think I should go. If you're in danger, your office needs checked before you enter."

"I'll take you there, you can check it out while I talk with the Dean," she decided. They walked through the grounds, huddled against the cold and snow, and he felt another crushing weight to his chest. All of this was so familiar. He was happy when he was here. He felt a sense of calm and normalcy here that he had never felt his entire life.

He fell in love with Hermione here.

He waited for her in her office. He fingered through her things. He put his feet up on her desk. He threw things in her rubbish bin, just to see if he could. There was nothing personal here either. Just a bunch of books and papers. When she finally arrived, he was sitting at her desk, feet still propped up, and hands behind his head.

"You look comfortable," she said.

She went to the bookcase and started to collect books and things. A moment later a young woman walked in the office and said, "Here are the boxes you requested, Professor Granger."

Draco immediately put his feet flat on the floor. Something was amiss. She was completely clearing the shelves, and putting everything in the boxes. She kneeled down by one of them, to re-arrange some books and she said, "Will you have room for my things in your shed, or should I try to rent a storage unit?"

"What are you doing?"

"I'm packing my things," she said.

"Why?"

"He fired me," she said. She voice had no inflection. Once again, she was void of emotion. He sprang out of the seat, went over to her, and picked her up by the shoulders. He shook her, for no good reason.

"Why did the arsehole fire you?" he asked.

Her chin quivered. He could tell she was on the verge of tears. First her mother, then her house, then her memory about her dad, and now her job? To many people, losing a job was akin to a death. Losing a house was as well. It was as if she was facing three deaths in the space of seven days. That was too much for anyone to handle.

Draco was about to march to that man's office and hex his balls off, but when he reached the door, she pulled him back.

"Don't do anything rash, Draco. It's fine. I'll be fine. I'll find another job." She went back to packing, with a sniffle here and a hiccup there. She was trying hard to keep her tears from falling, but she was being slightly betrayed.

He walked over to her, put his hand on her chest and pushed her into the chair behind her desk. Then he used his wand to pack everything he could see in the office that wasn't nailed down, and then even a few things that _were_ nailed down. She sat at the desk during the whirlwind and let him do what he must. He shrunk everything to fit in two boxes. He emptied the desk drawers, all the shelves, and took everything off the walls, and after a second thought, he even took the nails.

He picked up the boxes and said, "Come on, Granger. You don't need this blasted University. I always did hate it here, anyway."

On the drive back home she finally said, "He said he couldn't give me an extended leave. He said I could take another few days, but that I was needed back after that. I told him that I couldn't come back yet. I just couldn't. Not yet, and maybe not ever. He told me that I should leave and examine where my head was, and that if I decided I wanted to teach again in the future, he would consider me for another position sometime."

"Stupid bastard," Draco said. Actually, that didn't seem as harsh as Draco imagined, but still…stupid bastard.

He wanted to reach over and take her hand. Give it a small squeeze. He wanted to do that in the car earlier, but he never got a chance. What would be the harm? He reached over, took her hand in his, but instead of giving it a small squeeze and then returning it to her lap, he brought it to his mouth and kissed it gently, then he laid both their hands in her lap.

"Do you believe in Heaven, Malfoy?" she asked.

"No."

"Not at all?" she asked, her gaze examining his expression.

He took a quick glance her way and said, "No, not at all. I rather think someone either believes or doesn't. I don't think there are degrees of believing."

"Why don't you believe in heaven?" After she asked that question, she brought her left hand over to where he clasped her right and she began to rub the top of his hand with her finger. Maybe he did believe. This could be heaven, right here, right now, with her. Holding hands.

"Do you believe in Heaven?" he asked.

"As previously stated, you have a habit of not answering questions by asking questions of your own. Did you know that?" she asked.

"And yet, you just did the same thing," he pointed out.

"I'll answer." She declared she would answer, but instead, she continued to draw little circles on the top of his hand, while it held her other hand. Finally, she said, "I just think that there has to be something better in the afterlife than this. This can't be as good as it gets."

Draco said, "I think Heaven and Hell are here on earth. I've seen them both and know they exist, but in the here and now." He moved his hand from hers so he could shift gears and park the car. He pulled over, and then he placed his hand on her cheek. He said, "People experience such extreme joy and such immense pain. That's Heaven and Hell."

"No, I think you're wrong." She removed his hand from her cheek, but continued to hold it. "If I really felt that there was nothing better waiting for me than what I've had here on earth, then there would be no reason to continue living."

"If you believe in Heaven, then do you think Theo went to Heaven?" he asked. He wasn't sure why he asked that. She looked at him and her face was awash in new pain.

"For a long time, I really felt that he probably didn't. Now, I'm not sure. I hope he did. I hope I'll see him again someday."

"Why did you feel he wouldn't be in heaven? He was a good man," he asked.

"Just something I overhead a friend of my mother's say once after my father died," she said. "She said that when someone killed themselves, they didn't go to heaven."

"Why would she say that?" he said. "And what does that have to do with Theo?" She let go of his hand. He said, "What do you mean, Hermione?"

"Just that Theo died like my father died, by his own hand," she said softly.

What did she mean by that? Theo didn't kill himself. He died in a car accident. A stupid accident. He looked at her confused, and then turned away. He shook his head, and then he looked at her once more. She turned to look at him, with tears in her eyes, and all he thought was that her pain went deeper than he ever imagined, and that someone must have lied to him about Theo's death, and it had to be her.

_(Part II: University Years)_

**End of Part I**


	11. 11 You Look Different

All characters belong to JKR

**Part 2: University Years:**

**Chapter 11: You look Different:**

Draco tossed a small golden snitch up in the air and then he caught it. He doubted that any of the Muggles around him were paying him any mind. He was waiting for Theo to come out of the main building. He walked over to a sunny patch of grass, which was littered with students, and he stopped. He took a deep gulp of air. My god, it was her…Hermione Granger.

He hadn't seen her in a year. Was she a student here now? Did she know that he was going here? Of course she didn't. Why would she know anything about him? He put the snitch in his pocket and walked closer to her.

"No, Mum," Hermione said in a mobile phone, "I haven't gotten it yet. I did get the new towels you sent me. My flat is coming along nicely. I painted the walls yellow." Hermione laughed at something her mother said. Draco smiled. It was nice to see her laughing, because the last time he saw her there was certainly no reason for her to laugh or smile.

"Fine, Mum, I will," she said, responding to something her mother had said. She put the small phone in her backpack and took out a book. Draco took the snitch out of his pocket and threw it back in the air. A small part of him wanted her to notice him, and he wasn't sure why. She started to lay books all around her. She was looking for something. She was even muttering something to herself. Draco thought it was hilarious. He spied Theo and said, "Hey, Nott!" Surely, that would make her look up. He threw the snitch toward Theo.

Theo threw it back, and Draco jumped up to get it. On the way back down, his foot slipped on one of her books and he toppled over, and ended up right on top of her.

He looked down at her, and she back up at him. He supported his weight with his hands and said, "Hi, Granger."

Theo came over toward the pair, laughing. He held out his hand to Draco, who seemed oblivious. Theo hit his shoulder and said, "Oi, Malfoy, stop smashing Granger." Draco sat up and then stood. Theo said, "Sorry about that Granger. Malfoy always did have horrible manners, and he's clumsy as hell."

She frowned and started to pick up her books. Draco kneeled before her and helped her with her book. She looked at Theo and said, "What are you two doing here?"

"Academics, just like you, Granger," Draco said. She still looked at Theo, even as Draco took a book from her hand and stuffed it in her satchel.

She said, "You two should be careful playing with that snitch. This is a Muggle University, you know." She brushed off her jeans and watched as Draco stood. He reached his hand out to her. She was still ignoring him, and it both irritated him and amused him.

Her questions still directed toward Theo, she asked, "What are you two doing at a Muggle University?"

"Getting a top notch education," Draco said. This time she had to acknowledge him. He still had his hand out toward her. Would she ever take the hint? Finally, she accepted his hand and he pulled her up with ease. The unease came after she stood. He still had her hand. She did nothing to remove it, and he did nothing to release it.

Theo took her satchel from Draco and he finally let go of her hand. He looked inside and said, "You're taking awfully hard classes from the look of your books." He continued to rummage, uninvited, through her satchel, and he said, "Are you kidding me?"

She took her bag from him and started walking. Theo fell into step next to her, with Draco right behind. She said, "What classes are you taking?"

"Easy ones," Theo said with a laugh. He looked back at Draco and said, "You're taking some of the same classes as Granger."

Hermione turned to look at him. She was quiet for a moment and asked, "What's your major?"

"That's a personal question," Draco joked.

Hermione actually smiled. She said, "Mine's education."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Draco said.

Theo took her bag from her again and then handed it to Draco. He held out his arm for her and said, "Maybe you and old Malfoy here will share some classes. Walk with us, Granger. Show us the sights. This is our first day, you know."

She showed them the entire campus. Theo stayed by her side, Draco stayed behind. Hermione would glance back at him every once in a while, but she kept her conversation aimed toward Theo. Draco asked a few questions, and he noticed when she answered, she would look anywhere but at him.

He figured he must make her uncomfortable. He must remind her of what happened at the last battle. He must remind her of everything that was hard and painful to her all throughout school. She must not like him. Hell, she acted as if she could barely tolerate him.

Imagine his surprise when Theo said, "I have to go. My mum is expecting me for dinner. See you later, Malfoy. Hope to see you later, too, Granger." He bowed and kissed her hand.

She giggled.

Draco frowned.

She turned to him, and to say that the silence between them was awkward would be the biggest understatement of the century. He said, "Well, I best go, too."

"Is your mum expecting you, too?" she asked.

He gave her a crooked grin and said, "I'm not really welcome in my home any longer. My mother is paying for school, but that's about it."

"Why is that?" she asked.

"My father." He hoped that would be enough of an explanation. Surely, she knew his father was in prison. He hoped she wouldn't ask anything about him. He really thought he hated the man, so he wouldn't be able to defend him if she said something contrite or even mean spirited about him.

She said, "I'm sorry you're having a rough time with your parents." That was all she said, and he was thankful for it. She reached for her books.

"I'll carry them to your car," he said.

"I live here on campus. In a small, one room flat. It's tiny, on the third floor of a large old house, and the stairs leading up to it on the outside are a bit scary and rickety, but it's mine, and I love it."

She smiled at him and he felt his heart melt. He said, "Theo and I are on campus, too. Thank the stars it's not a one roomer. Theo snores."

She smiled at that. She said, "You want to see my flat?" Then she looked as if she could hardly believe she asked that.

To relieve her distress he said, "I'll carry your books there, but then I really need to get home. Classes start tomorrow, you know."

"I'm painfully aware. I'm very nervous," she said with a laugh as they started to walk toward her apartment. "I haven't been in school for a while, you know."

"You always loved school though," he reminded.

"True." She cocked her head to the side. She was staring at him.

He asked, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You look different."

"How so?" he asked. He was curious. The truth was he found that to be a compliment. He felt different, so he should look different.

"You look more comfortable in your own skin. You look like you belong. Does that make sense?" she asked.

He felt like she was looking into his soul. That was exactly how he felt. He felt more comfortable. He felt like he was his own person for the first time in his life. He didn't feel like he was defined by his father, or as a pureblood, or any of that shite. He felt like Draco. Just Draco, for the first time ever. He said, "You're crazy." Then he smiled at her and said, "No, really, I think you've hit the nail on the proverbial head, Granger. Finally, everything feels right."

"I'm happy for you, Malfoy," she said.

"Really?" he asked. He swatted a fly that flew in front of her face. It made her blink. He stepped up closer to her. She looked into his eyes. For the first time in her life, she really looked Draco Malfoy in the eyes, and she liked what she saw.

He only had one thought. He wanted to kiss her. How crazy was that? He had never found her overly attractive before. She still wasn't what he would call beautiful. She was pretty. Her eyes were gorgeous, her smile nice, her nose cute, and her hair tolerable. And what was with those freckles? Did she always have them or were they new? He wanted to kiss each freckle individually. He wanted to kiss her badly. This new Draco Malfoy must be crazy.

"Do I look different?" she asked.

If she only knew. He was contemplating that very thing. He said, "No, you look about the same, really." He was such a liar. They stopped walking and he spied a bench across the road. He pointed. She nodded. They walked across the road and sat down.

"What are Weasel and Potter up to these days?" Draco asked.

"Auror training, mostly," she said. "They've been at it for over a year now. I took a gap year. I traveled with my Mum some, and by myself some."

"I hate being by myself," he said. He really did.

"I don't. I enjoy my own company," she said wistfully. "Sometimes I think I'm the only one that can stand to be with me for any period of time." She laughed at her own joke. He felt himself pulled by her laughter, and it tore him to pieces. It made him not only conflicted, but also aroused. He smiled as well.

"Weren't you and Weasley dating?" he asked.

"For a bit," she stated. She smoothed away an invisible wrinkle from her blouse. "He's got a new girlfriend now. Do you remember Susan Bones?"

He did, but he said, "I don't think so." He wasn't sure why he was lying to her so much, except that he had hoped that by feigning ignorance, she would have to keep talking to him if only to enlighten him.

"She went to Hogwarts, Malfoy. She was in our grade," she said condescendingly.

"But she was in Hufflepuff, and I don't acknowledge Hufflepuffs on principle," he said with a phony haughty air.

She laughed again. Her laughter hit his senses like a bright beam of light. It pulsated through his very soul. She was a ray of sunshine in an otherwise dark and dismal world. She stood up from the bench. He was forced to follow.

Finally, she said, "My flat's this way."

She started walking across campus and he followed, but this time he walked right beside her instead of behind her.


	12. 12 Someone to Watch Over Me

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 12: Someone to Watch over me**:

Hermione walked into the dark, cavernous library and looked for a seat. It was late, but the library didn't close until midnight. Very few students came out this late, and usually Hermione was one of the ones that didn't, but tonight she did. She had to do some research for a paper, and this was her only free time. She hated being alone when a building was almost empty and dark like this. It reminded her too much of a horrible incident from her past.

She sat down at one of the tables and turned on the light in front of her. She started to lay out her books when she spied a familiar head. Sitting in front of her, two tables over, was Draco Malfoy. His back was to her, but she knew it was he. She would know that hair anywhere. She had just seen Theo that morning, and he told her that he and Draco had dates tonight, so she wondered what he was doing at the Library. Even though she had seen Theo several times since that first day, and Draco actually had two classes with her, she hadn't really spoken much to him, and he never really spoke to her. He never really spoke to anyone. She thought he seemed lonely.

Was it rude of her not to go up to him and say hello? Unless he turned around, he wouldn't even know she was there. She left her books and stood up to go cruise an aisle, to find the book that she needed for her assignment.

He looked up when he heard the pitter pat of footsteps. He thought he was alone in this room. He saw another man at a table, and a couple on a couch. He turned his head quickly and he saw a wisp of brown hair as the person making the noise ducked behind an aisle. It was Granger. He would bet his life on it. He would know that hair anywhere.

He closed his book and decided to say hello. She undoubtedly saw him, and she was probably waiting for him to speak first. He hadn't had a real conversation with her since that first day when he walked her to her flat. He even had two classes with her, but she always seemed to want to be alone, so he left her alone. He smiled at her a couple of times, and she at him, but that was the extent of their involvement.

He walked down the aisle she had traveled, and when he didn't see her, he crossed over to another one. He saw her bend down as she removed two large books from the bottom shelf. Then he saw her stack them one on top of the other, and she stood up on them, using them as a stepstool, to reach up for her intended target: a large book on the top shelf.

He smiled. He walked over to her, stealth his middle name, and once behind her he said, "You are misusing books."

She turned quickly, gasped, placed one hand on a shelf, and reached in her pocket for her wand. She also slipped on the books she was standing on, and as she started to tumble she let out a 'yelp'. Draco reached over to steady her, but could not stop her as she slipped to the floor.

She looked up at him, breathing hard, a terrified look on her face. Another student walked by and said, "Is everything alright there?"

Draco was quick to stand in front of her, since she was still holding her wand, and he said, "My girlfriend just fell."

The boy gave Draco a leery look and approached. He said, "Are you okay, Miss?" Apparently, he didn't trust Draco. Draco thought that was very rude of the bugger.

"I'm fine. He thought it would be funny to scare me, that's all," she said, standing up. Draco had one hand behind his back, and as if she understood what he wanted, she placed her wand in it promptly. He stuck it in his back pocket. The older student approached them more.

He looked from Draco to Hermione and addressing her he said, "You look like you've been frightened by something. Is this fellow really your boyfriend?"

Draco looked at the man with disgust and before he could answer, Hermione placed her arm around Draco's waist, tucking herself neatly under his arm. "He's a wanker, but he's all mine."

"Okay then. Sorry, but I would have felt horrid if he was accosting you and I didn't do anything about it," the bloke said. He nodded to Draco and said, "No hard feelings mate." He went back to his seat.

Draco felt a newfound respect for the stranger. He did what Draco would have wanted anyone to do if they found Hermione in trouble. He did what Draco himself did, last year, when she was in trouble. Unlike this man, he wasn't quite as forward and brave, but the man's heart was in the right place.

As the man turned the corner, Hermione let go of Draco's waist. She said, "Reach up there and get me that red book, Malfoy."

"Yes, Sir," he said. He got the book and then as he was handing it to her he said, "Was that a direct order?"

"Do you follow direct orders, because if you do, I will tell you to go jump in the lake." She took the book from him and said, "Please, don't ever sneak up on me again."

"I wasn't sneaking…oh, never mind." It would do no good to argue the point with her, because he _was_ sneaking up on her. He picked the books up from the floor and returned them to the bottom shelf. He motioned to her to walk ahead of him.

She said, "Turn around."

"Why? Do you want to look at my bum?" he asked.

"Turn around," she repeated.

"Another direct order?" he asked.

"For goodness sakes," she expelled. She reached behind him, removed her wand from his pocket, and placed it in her own.

He slapped her arm and said, "Fresh."

She smiled. They returned to the main room and she motioned with her head that he should join her at her table. He picked up his books and did so. He thought she was a bossy little thing. She always was, though, so he wasn't positive why that was a surprise. She certainly led Potter and Weasley around by the balls all those years.

He sat opposite her and that was when he noticed what she was writing. "You're just now doing your paper?" he asked.

"I know, pity me please. Uni is harder than I suspected. I'm getting a bit behind." She opened the reference book and started to write on a piece of paper. She shook her pen and said, "Great, my only pen and it's out of ink!"

He reached in his satchel and handed her a ballpoint pen. As he handed it to her he said, "Ruddy good invention, if you ask me. Beats quill and ink anytime."

She smiled. Then she went back to her work.

He read a while and then he said, "Pssst, Granger."

She looked up and said, "I'm right across from you. You don't have to make the 'pssst' noise to get my attention."

"Pssst, Granger," he said again with a smirk.

"What?" she whispered back, and rolled her eyes.

"Why were you so scared back there when I came across you in the stacks?"

She looked as if he had punched her in the gut by asking that question. She frowned, and not with just her mouth, but with her whole face. She said, "I don't like to be in large, dark places by myself. Too many bad memories." She hoped that was a good enough explanation and that he wouldn't ask her to elaborate.

He nodded and said, "Enough said." He wondered if she had psychological scars from that night, but then he realized she probably had multiple scars, from multiple episodes, and that was just one of many. He knew that was the case with him. He often wondered if she some how blamed him for what happened, even though he helped her. It was an irritation thought, but he thought it all the time. He would have to ask her about it someday.

He finished his work, and was about to tell her that he had to go, when he notice they were the last two there. He wondered if she would be afraid if he left her. That made him feel all mushy inside, and he almost wanted to vomit. He hated feeling mushy. GADS! Granger made him feel mushy! Another part of him felt protectiveness toward her. A part of her needed him, and she may not even know it. He leaned forward and said, "How much longer do you have, do you think?"

"For what?" she asked, not looking up.

"Your work," he clarified.

"Oh, probably another hour." She still didn't look up.

He looked at his watch. It was after ten o'clock now. He was supposed to meet Theo and two girls at a pub tonight. He was already late.

However, she was proud. If he told her he had to go, she would just say goodbye, and put up with her fears. He didn't want her to have to do that. He didn't want her to go through unnecessary distress. He said, "I have about an hour, too. If you get done before me, let me know, and I'll finish up and walk you back to your flat."

She still didn't look up, but she smiled. She could tell that he was lying. He had stopped working a while ago. He was staying for her, and that warmed her inside. She wondered if he ever dwelled on the time he helped her at Hogwarts during the last battle. She would die inside if she ever thought that his thoughts lingered on that. She really hoped that he never even thought of it. She knew she had worked hard to forget it. She worked hard to put it in the past. With the help of her mum, and good friends, and a therapist, she put it all in the past. She barely thought of it, except at times like tonight, when she was alone.

Except she wasn't really alone tonight, she had Draco. She liked that thought. She had Draco Malfoy to rely on, and who would have ever thought such a thing. She decided to cut him a break. She would finish the report at home. She had all the information she needed. Besides, she knew he had a date.

"I think I'm done for tonight," she said. She closed her book. She said, "Do you mind going with me to put the book back? I won't be able to reach to place it back on the top shelf."

He thought that was a feeble excuse. She could leave it on the cart by the Librarian's desk, or she could just order him to put it back. She didn't want to be alone. He grinned, with his head lowered, said, "Yes, Captain. I shall endeavor to do you proud by putting the book back on the high shelf. Lead the way." He scooted his chair back and she did the same. She walked slightly ahead of him and he couldn't help but notice her nice bum on the way down the aisle.

Once at the right shelf she turned and handed him the book. He took it from her and started to put it back but she said, "It goes over there, fourth from the left."

"Seriously, does it matter?" he asked.

"I take the Dewey-decimal system very serious, Malfoy," she joked.

He turned quickly to place it on the opposite shelf, just to get her dander up, and as he turned, she leaned forward to push another book, which was protruding from its place, back in the shelf, and he banged her nose with the hand holding the book.

It didn't hurt at all, but he didn't have to know that. She yelped for the second time that evening and immediately held her nose with both hands. He dropped the book and reached for her face. He placed his hands on her wrists and said, "Granger, I am so, so sorry. Let me have a look."

Her eyes watered and she continued to moan and groan. "I think you broke my nose."

He rolled his eyes at his carelessness, and he moved his hands to her shoulders, and rubbed her arms up and down. The next thing she knew he pulled her into his chest and was rubbing her back. "I'm sorry, Hermione. Can I take you to the nurse? It was an accident. The last thing I would ever want to do is to hurt you."

Well now, she felt guilty. He called her Hermione, and he felt bad for hurting her. She also felt incredibly safe and comfortable in his embrace. She pulled back slightly and he bent his head to look at her face. One hand went to her hands and he removed her left hand from her face, and then her right, to reveal a large smile on her face.

"I just wanted to scare you in the stacks, the way you scared me," she explained, her nose not injured in the least.

He gripped her wrists tighter and pulled her toward him. He shook her in a fake fury and said, "You're so evil!" She was biting her bottom lip, but a smile was still forming on her face. He said, "I should get you back for that."

He pushed her away, however gently, and he placed the book back in its proper home. He started back down the aisle and she remained where she was. He looked back and said, "Are you coming?"

"Are you really willing to walk me home?" she asked, walking toward him.

"If you promise not to do anything else that is remotely mean or evil, I might be persuaded," he said. They returned to the table and each cleared their spots.

Hermione said, "I'm surprised you don't have some sort of date or something tonight, Malfoy. It being a Friday night and all."

He smiled to himself, and took her bag from her hand. They began to walk toward the door and he said, "No, completely date free. I take my studies seriously."

They walked outside and she said, "I saw Theo earlier. He said you two had double dates with, and I quote, the two hottest birds on campus. I was slightly crushed, because I thought I was the hottest bird on campus."

"You are an evil little thing, and your hottest aside, if you knew about my date, why didn't you say something?" he asked.

"Because," she said. And she didn't elaborate. And he didn't ask her to explain, because he didn't really care. He wanted to walk her home. They walked in complete and utter silence, he remembering the feel of her as he held her to his chest, and she thinking of the exact same thing.


	13. 13 It's All an Act

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 13: It's all an act:**

"Tell me!" he implored, tickling her ribs.

"STOP IT! Please, stop it!" she screamed.

"I shall tickle you until you tell me who it is," he said, still tickling her.

Just then, someone walked in the front door. "Help me, Malfoy!" she yelled. Draco walked in the flat and he felt incredibly jealous. Theo had Hermione pinned on the floor and was tickling her. His Hermione. On his floor.

"He can't help you now, Granger," Theo said, still torturing her.

"PLEASE!" she said. She looked up at Draco with eyes the implored him to help her. A look in which he was all too familiar. It wasn't an act. She seemed afraid. Draco pulled on Theo's shoulder.

"Stop it, Theo," Draco said.

Theo didn't stop.

Hermione was close to actual tears now. Draco pulled on his friends shoulder again, and roared, "STOP IT!" He pulled the other man off her. She rolled over to her side. "That's cruel," Draco said.

Hermione pushed herself up to her feet and ran to their bathroom.

"Gee, I didn't know she would get all strange like that," Theo said.

"Some people don't like to be confined," Draco scolded. He knew Hermione was one such person. She had never told him as much, but the look in her eye told him all he needed to know. Theo walked to their bathroom door, followed by Draco.

He knocked and she opened the door. She said, "Do you guys ever clean in there? It's disgusting." Her eyes were red, from the laughter and tears. She blew her nose on some toilet paper and said, "This is the last of the toilet paper."

She put the snotty paper in Theo's hand. He looked disgusted, but threw it in the trash bin.

"Why were you tickling her?" Draco asked as he plopped on the sofa and put his feet on the coffee table. He turned on the telly. He always turned on the television when he got in the flat. He hated silence.

"Granger's got a date and won't tell me with whom," Theo said. Hermione took that opportunity to disappear into Draco's bedroom.

He put his feet on the floor, looked at Theo sternly, and said, "How do you know?"

"She told me, but she won't say who it's with. I bet it's that bloke she studied with the other day."

"That wanker?" Draco asked.

Hermione came out of Draco's bedroom and said, "He's not a wanker. I put your book back, by the way. The one I borrowed."

"I have to go to work," Theo announced. He didn't really have a job. He was dating some girl who worked at a café on campus, so when she went to work, he went. He looked at Draco and mouthed the words, "Find out who it is."

As he left, Draco turned to look at her. She was making tea. She said, "You two are such opposites. Your bedroom is always so neat. Theo's is a mess. When you're home, the dishes are done. When he's here, I can't even find a clean spoon."

"Who's your date with, by the way," he said.

"By the way? That's not a very smooth segue. You should beat around the bush, and then trick me into telling you," she said. She picked up her cup of tea and sat beside him on the couch.

"Cut the crap. Theo wants me to find out. I could care less," he said. However, he turned the television down and he turned to look at her. He actually wasn't sure he could care more.

"Well, you know David, from class, right?"

"Tall, gangly, ugly fellow?" he asked.

"Um, no," she said deliberately. "Tall, gangly, handsome fellow."

"When are you going out with this prat?" he asked.

"He asked me to go to the pictures with him this Saturday. I have to go to my mum's for lunch during the day, but I might take him up on the offer, if nothing better comes along." She took a drink of tea.

"You told me you were going to your mum's to do your laundry on Saturday," he reminded her.

"Lunch will probably be served," she said.

"You are using your mum for her washer and dryer, and you are using this David bloke for who knows what reason, because you surely don't like him." He put his feet back on the coffee table and turned the television back up.

"I like him," she said. She took the remote from him.

"Hand it over, Granger."

She placed her tea on the coffee table and held the remote control above her head. He looked at her as if she was crazy and said, "I can reach it still, you know." She stood up on the couch and held it over her head. He stood up on the floor and said, "I can still reach it." He looked perturbed, but he was actually amused.

She jumped off the couch and put it down her jumper. Right down the front of her jumper. Now he was in a pickle. He could get it there, but after her little jaunt with Theo and the tickling, he didn't want to cross the line, nor distress her. He walked up to her and said, "Must I call Theo to come back here and tickle you some more?"

She backed toward the wall and said, "Are you afraid to get it yourself?"

"That's a dangerous question," he admitted.

"It's a dare!" she said. He jumped for her, she squealed, and ran around the table. He ran after her.

"Give it, Granger!"

"Get it, Malfoy!" she said.

He jumped over the table, she yelled again, and she ran toward his bedroom. She tried to shut the door in his face, but she didn't make it in time. She jumped up on the bed and started to bounce. "Draco can't get the remote!" she taunted.

He said, "Fine, keep the stupid remote. I have a wand. I can turn the channels with it." He walked out of the room and slammed his door shut tight.

She jumped two more times and then sat on the bed. She took the remote out of her jumper and started toward the door. She opened it slowly. She figured he was out there ready to pounce. He wasn't. He was back on the couch, turning the channels with a flick of his wand.

She pointed the remote at the screen and turned it off. He turned it back on. She turned it off. He looked at her, giving her a dirty look at that, and turned it back on. She turned it back off. He stood up and said, "Don't make me call Theo!"

She laughed and threw him the remote. He sat back down and turned the telly back on. She started toward the door and said, "I should go anyway."

"Hey, may I ask you a question?" he asked.

She nodded and sat back down on the sofa. He sat back beside her. He turned off the telly. "Why were you so panicked when Theo was tickling you? The look in your eye reminded me, I mean, well, you looked almost scared."

She looked at the floor. She said, "We've never really discussed what happened at Hogwarts during the final battle, have we?"

"We don't have to," he said. He didn't want to. He thought of it all the time, so there was no need to talk about it. It wasn't as if he was ever going to forget. He said, "Is that why, though? You were afraid of him?"

"Not afraid, I just can't stand it when someone has that much power over me. Physical strength, I mean. It scares me. He doesn't scare me."

"I'm sorry," he said, and he was.

She bit her lip and then put her head back on the sofa cushions. "That's a lie."

"No it's not. I am sorry," he said quickly.

"I meant I lied," she explained, "Sometimes I am afraid of Theo."

He turned and said, "Why?" She didn't answer right away. Her eyes were shut. He reached over and touched her arm. She opened her eyes. "Why does he scare you? Has he ever done anything to hurt you? Has he said anything to cause you distress?"

Draco was sure that Theo would never hurt Hermione in anyway. He knew that he genuinely liked her, maybe as much as Draco did, though probably in a different way. They had become very good friends over the last six months. He reached over again and took her hand. It was a common thing these days, touching Hermione. It started with her touching him. Sometimes she would pat his arm. Sometimes she hit him, and sometimes hard. She would brush his hair out of his eyes. She would grab his hand when she had something exciting to say.

He had seen her act the same with Potter and Weasley all their lives, so he knew it was nothing out of the way for her. She did the same with Theo. Nevertheless, until recently, he had never touched her in the same familiar way. He was afraid to, because if he touched her, it might reveal how he felt about her, and he wasn't ready to do that.

Something changed yesterday evening, though. They were all at her flat, having pizza and studying, when Draco went to lie down on the floor. He had a headache from all the reading. He told Theo and Hermione he had a headache, and wanted to shut his eyes for a moment. He took one of her sofa pillows, put it under his head, and closed his eyes.

The next thing he knew, she was sitting by his head, massaging his temples. Then she propped up his head, to replace the pillow with her lap. She continued to rub his forehead, as she read his textbook aloud. Theo ended up lying on the sofa, saying if she was going to read it aloud, he didn't need to read it either.

She was doing it for him, however. For Draco. Somewhere along the line, he reached up with his right hand and took her hand in his. He held it. She continued to read.

So now, he felt he could touch her. He wasn't for sure when the schism occurred; he only knew that now he could touch her.

Like he was touching her now. "Hermione, tell me, why are you scared of Theo?" He was rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

It was moments like this when she wished it were only him, her, and no one else in the world. She said, "I'm not scare of him, I'm scared for him. There's a difference. I feel like he's a bomb that is about to implode or explode or something."

He smiled and said, "That's crazy. He's one of the happiest people I know. He's always happy-go-lucky. He always has been. He's never sad or depressed."

"And hence forth my assessment," she said. "That's not natural. Everyone has blue days, and shows anger occasionally. I think it's an act, and that scares me. In many ways, he reminds me of my dad. I'm afraid one of these days his bottled up emotions are going to explode all over the place, and it won't be a pretty sight." She removed her hand from his to make an explosion gesture with her hands.

He had never heard her say anything negative about her dad before, so he wasn't sure what she meant, but he still thought she was nuts. He said, "I wouldn't worry about that." He took her hand again and asked, "You do like him, don't you?"

"Sure, what's not to like?" she said. "I don't want you to think I don't like him!" She sat upright and said, "Please don't tell him I said anything."

"First, I wouldn't betray your confidence, and you should know that. I've never told a living soul any of your secrets, if you understand my meaning," he assured her. He said, "And what I meant was, do you have affection for him beyond friendship."

"No," she said quickly. "No, not at all," she said even quicker. "Why would you ask that?"

He wasn't sure why he asked. No, he was lying to himself. He knew why he asked. Because it would kill him inside if he found out that she liked Theo that way. If she ever liked anyone that way, it had better be him. He said, "Just pulling your leg."

"Oh," she said softly. She picked up the remote and turned the telly back up. She said, "May we watch this program? It's my favourite." She tucked her feet under her and rested her head on his shoulder. Since they were at the touching stage of their relationship, he stroked her hair. He was glad he could touch her now. It might be all he would ever have with her.


	14. 14 Unpleasant Conversations

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 14: An Unpleasant Conversation:**

The first year of school was ending. Draco was helping Hermione move from her flat. She was going back to her mum's house for the summer break. She would have to find another flat come fall. Theo was going home for the summer, too. His mother and father hadn't disowned him, even though his father was in prison. Draco had nowhere to go, so he was staying at school.

Hermione watched as Draco helped her to put all her things in boxes, shrinking them down so they would fit. She stopped wrapping dishes in tissue paper to sit on the kitchen floor. She leaned against one of the cupboard. Draco looked over at her and said, "Are you slacking, Granger?"

"No, remembering," she answered.

He placed the books he had in his hands on the small table and walked over to her. He sat down next to her and bumped his shoulder into hers. "What are you remembering that's causing you to look so melancholy?" he asked.

"I've really liked living here. It's a nice place, if not somewhat small, but I've never felt afraid here. The couple who own the house have been like second parents to me. My mum has offered to continue to pay the rent so the place will be mine again in the fall, but I don't know if that's the right thing to do."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Well, sometimes money can be tight for my Mum. She has to work all by herself, and she works really long hours. I don't want to take advantage of her," she said back.

"We should all get a place together next year, you, me and Theo," he said. He thought he would throw that suggestion out there, and see what she thought. He expected one of two things. Either she would become excited, hug him, and say yes, or she would immediately shoot him down and say, no way. He was holding out for option one.

However, she surprised him when she said, "I'm not sure that's the best idea."

"Okay," he said. He gave up easily, because he wasn't sure it was the best idea either. When she didn't say anything else, he asked, "Why does you mum work such long hours?"

"Ever since my dad died, she's had their dental practice all to herself. She has no one to share the duties or the nighttime or weekend emergencies. It's difficult sometimes and she works so hard," Hermione explained.

"I'm not sure you ever told me how your dad died," Draco stated.

"Heart attack," she said. She looked over to the wall, turning her head away from him. He figured that she didn't like to think of unpleasant things, so he wouldn't ask her anything else about her dad. "I don't really like to talk about it," she confirmed.

"That's fine. I don't like to talk about unpleasant things either; however, I'm always willing to listen." He picked up her hand.

She felt such warmth radiating from him. When did that happen? When did the meanest, biggest bully in school, become such a kind, gentle man? What had altered his life so much? She wanted to know. She also wanted to know exactly when she fell in love with him, because she was. She was in love with him. "When did you become so nice?" It wasn't the most tactful way for her to ask that question, but it would serve its purpose.

He kept her hand in both of his and said, "I was always nice, on the inside."

"Where it counts," she said in jest.

"Yes," he said, smiling. "Really, I think the war changed me. For the better. War is a terrible, terrible thing, it can turn some people bitter, turn others into heroes, scar some people for life, make some people stronger, and for me, it made me more compassionate. I replaced my selfishness with empathy. I think you had a lot to do with that." He wondered if he had said too much.

"Do you mean because of the last battle? I mean, what happened during the ceasefire?" she asked.

He nodded.

"We've never really discussed it, have we?" she acknowledged.

"I never figured you would want to talk about it," he said.

"I've worked hard to forget it," she said.

"I wish I could forget it," he admitted.

"Why didn't you run when I warned you to run? They might not even have hurt you, since you were your father's son," she said.

"I've often wondered about that," he said truthfully. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. As he released the breath, he released her hand. He drew his legs up, so that his knees were level with his face. He placed his arms around his legs and placed his face on his arms, and closed his eyes. He had more to add to that sentence, but he wasn't sure he could face her and tell her the truth at the same time.

He added, "I was going to run and leave you there. Theo was there too, did you know?" He didn't wait for an answer. "We were trying to find a way out of the castle. I was a scared kid who just desperately wanted to find his parents. They were out in the forest with the Dark Lord and Potter, so I felt I had to go out to them somehow, but we couldn't find a way out."

"We ran down the long corridor from the old Potions room in the dungeons, to try to climb the backstairs to the entrance by the kitchens, near the Hufflepuff dormitory. That's when we turned the corner and saw you. What were you doing there?"

He turned his face so it was still resting on his arms, but he could see her. However, she was the one that was now looking away.

"Ron and I had gone back down to the Chamber of Secrets, to destroy one of the Horcruxes. We were running back up, and became separated. He had heard from someone that his brother Percy had joined the fight and was trying to find his family. He ran away with that boy, to look for Percy, and he temporarily forgot about me. I fell on the stairs and hurt my knee. I could barely run. Then, I heard three men talking. I knew in my heart they weren't on our side. I tried to go into several classrooms, but I couldn't get in any of them."

"Stop," he said. He closed his eyes again. "You don't have to tell me anymore."

"Fine," she uttered. She scooted to her knees, and started to stand. He reached out and held her arm. He pulled her back down.

"I meant, tell me what you want, but don't feel like you have to reveal anything to me that you don't want," he revised.

She sat back down. "Well, anyway, I was in a bad way when you and Theo turned the corner and started down the corridor," she said, glossing over the worst bits for his sake. She said, "I was on the ground, and they were standing, so I saw you before they did. I was both overjoyed that someone else was there, and yet I was also afraid that you might get hurt, too."

"You were afraid for us?" he asked. He stood up quickly. She stayed on the floor. She was slightly alarmed. He started to pace back and forth, a habit he had when he was agitated. "How dare you be afraid for us! You were fighting for your life! Why in the world would you be thinking about us at that point? We were nothing to you!"

She wasn't sure why he was so indignant about her statement, but it was a statement of fact. She sat as he did earlier, knees draw up to chin, face resting on top of knees. She said, "I can't help how I felt. I was afraid for you."

He rushed over to her and pulled her up by one arm and she winced and closed her eyes. She turned her head and said three words that would forever haunt him. The reason the words haunted him, was because they were the same words he heard her say to those Death Eaters. She said, "Don't hurt me."

He pushed her away, and rubbed his face in frustration. He threw his arms down to his sides in a sudden movement and said, "I'm not going to hurt you! You seriously think I would hurt you?" She backed toward the sink. He said, "It's just, I wish I had done more. I wish it hadn't happened to you. I wish Theo hadn't run away. How can you forgive him? Sometimes I can't forgive him. Sometimes I want to blame him for everything, and that makes me angry, too! The whole thing makes me angry!"

"Anger is good," she said.

"That's a load of shite!" he retorted.

"What do you want from me? I don't even know how we got started on this conversation. I didn't want to talk about it. I don't even want to remember it. I'm not sure why you're so angry about it all, because it didn't happen to you."

"YOU THINK NOT?" he shouted. "I feel like it did happen to me! It was the most defining moment of my life!"

"Then I'm glad it happened," she said.

"WHAT?" he shouted louder.

"If what happened to me had to happen for you to have a turning point, and for you to become a better man, then so be it. Then something good came from a horrible situation, and you know what, thank the stars above that you were there! If you hadn't killed that one man, and disarmed the other, which afforded me the chance to get my wand, who knows what else would have happened." She turned toward the wall, for once upset that her flat was a one roomer. She would love to run to another room right about now. She would run to the toilet, but he was standing in front of the door. She ended with, "You probably saved my life that day. Doesn't that mean anything to you? If you aren't grateful, then at least have the knowledge that I am."

He pulled at his hair. Why did he have to bring all of this up? Why did he have to ask her such open-ended questions? He walked up behind her. He could see she was crying. He said, "Don't cry." The words came out with a sting. He didn't say it as nicely as he could have. It was more of a demand than a plea or request. He patted her back, feeling like a fool, and said, "Please, don't cry. I won't ever bring it up again, and if you find that someday you want to tell me everything that happened, I won't throw a tantrum. At least, not one as bad as this one."

She let out a little laugh and turned around. She wiped away a tear. He held out his t-shirt and said, "Here, use my shirt as a hankie. It's already dirty."

She actually took his shirttail, which shocked him, and wiped her eyes. He was thankful that she didn't blow her nose on it. When she let it go, she smoothed it out with her hand. The feel of her delicate touch rubbing lightly on his stomach and chest sent shock waves through his system, even through the thin cotton of his shirt.

She walked away from him and continued to pack and said, "So, yeah, I'll miss this place."

He had an idea. He was going to let his place go, and rent this place for the summer. He would keep it for her until fall, then she could have it back, and he and Theo could find a nicer place. Their place was a dump, anyway.

"Do you think you could continue with the lease here, and let me sublet it from you for the summer, and come fall you could have it back? Our place is terrible. It has all sorts of bugs, and since I'm going to be all by myself this summer, I think I need a smaller place. You can have it back in the fall."

He said the whole spill while packing up the remainder of her books. He wasn't even facing her, yet he could tell she turned around and was staring at him. As silly as it sounded, he even felt her smile, though he couldn't see it. He heard her say, "I think that would work."

He thought it would work, too. He knew deep down inside that he would probably do anything for Hermione Granger, if she asked him to, and even if she didn't ask.


	15. 15 A Perfect Christmas Ruined

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 15: A Perfect Christmas, Ruined:**

Hermione always loved Christmas. The same could be said for almost everyone. What was there not to love? Presents were nice, both the giving and the receiving. Decorations could make anyone feel like a child again. The sweets and cakes were to die for, and there were always plenty of them to go around.

Everyone sang carols and people kissed under the mistletoe. Lucky people lived where it snowed, which only added to the ambience. Hermione knew this year would be no exception. She was prepared to go home for Christmas, and she was determined to make it the best Christmas ever.

She loaded her car with presents and dirty laundry. Theo, who was helping her pack, threw her suitcase in the back and said, "Don't forget to write to me." She opened the driver's side door and leaned her hands on the top, near the window.

She smiled and said, "Don't worry, I'll write every day if you want."

"No, just every other," he said. "I wish I was going with you."

"You'll have fun at home, won't you?" she asked.

"Probably, but Mum is always a bit morose these days, without my father around," he answered.

Hermione became quiet for a moment and nodded. She never liked it when Theo talked about his father, but she could never tell him as much. Only Draco knew why. Theo leaned against the other side of the car door and said, "Anyway, give me a Christmas kiss before I leave." He offered her his cheek. She stood up on her tiptoes, leaned against the car door, and kissed his cheek soundly.

Hermione smiled and said, "Don't forget to give Draco his present from me."

Theo looked serious for a moment and then said, "About that, you'll have to give it to him yourself. I packed it in your bag. He's not coming home with me this year."

"I thought he was. That was the plan," she said as she climbed in the car.

He shrugged and said, "I invite him every year, but he always says no. He just told you he was coming because he didn't want you to feel sorry for him." He looked at his watch and said, "If I don't apparate right now, I'll be late. See you!" He ran down the sidewalk, waving as he left.

Hermione sat in the car and frowned. She didn't want Draco to be alone for Christmas. No one should be alone anytime, let alone at Christmas. She had invited him to come to her house, but he had said no. She promised him that Harry and Ron wouldn't be there, because she was visiting with them on New Year's Eve. He still said no. He told her it was tradition to go to Theo's house. Apparently he lied. It must be tradition 'not' to go to Theo's house.

She was about to shut her car door, determined to drive right up to Draco's building and drag him outside to force him to join her, when a hand grabbed the car door and stopped her from shutting it. She looked up. It was Draco.

"Were you leaving without wishing me a Happy Christmas?" he asked. He opened the door all the way and stood between the door and the car.

She looked up at him and said, "Theo already left for his mum's house."

"I know. I saw him leave. I'm going to meet him later," he explained, or rather, he lied.

Hermione turned toward the front windshield and gripped the steering wheel tight. He leaned down in the car and said, "Is something wrong?"

"I thought we were friends," she said without looking at him.

"We are," he said in return, a frown on his face.

"No, we aren't," she answered. She turned to face him. He kneeled down and grabbed one of her hands from the steering wheel.

"Why would you say that?" he asked.

She removed her gloved hand from his and said, "Friends don't lie to each other."

"When have I lied to you?" he asked. He stood back up.

She said, "Move and let me close my door. I think I'm done with you."

When he didn't move, she started out of the car. She stood right in front of him. She was so close to him that they were touching. She put her hands on his shoulders and started to push him out of the way. He wouldn't budge. He removed her hands from his arms and held them tightly in his.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked. "How did I lie?"

"If you didn't want to spend Christmas with me, you could have been truthful and told me outright," she said. She wanted to manipulate the situation, to make him feel as if she thought she was being slighted. She didn't want him to think she felt sorry for him, or that she was sad that he was going to be all alone. Instead, she had to use a different angle, and she could only hope he wouldn't know what she was doing.

She continued her diatribe. "Theo told me that you aren't going with him, and you told me you that were, so that means one thing: you didn't want to spend Christmas with me, ergo, you lied to me. I don't care if you don't want to go, but friends don't lie to each other, so I can only assume you aren't really my friend." She sat back in the car. She moved her left leg inside, and then her right. "Let me shut the door. It's freezing outside."

"Hermione, please, don't be angry," he said. He kneeled down again. He looked up at her and said, "I just prefer to be alone. I really do. I didn't want to spend Christmas at the Nott's, because I would have to see all the old faces, which I would rather never to see again. I can't go home, as you know, and I didn't particularly want a pity invite from you."

Now she really _was_ angry. Her anger was no longer an act. She felt like pushing him over, but she didn't. She said, "My invitation to you was not a pity invitation! Don't insult either of us by ever assuming that it was. That belittles us both, and it only goes t o prove that my previous statement was true: we aren't the friends I thought we were."

She suddenly felt incredible sadness. He stood up, said, "Think whatever you want," and shut her car door.

He walked away, and she drove away and both assumed that was that.

However, that wasn't that.

Two days later, Hermione found that she was all alone on Christmas Eve, and she suddenly decided she hated Christmas. She felt horrible for telling Draco he wasn't her friend, her mother wasn't home because she had to go to Hospital to tend to a teenager who had a car accident and needed reconstructive surgery, including dental surgery, and Harry and Ron were spending Christmas at the Burrow, and she didn't want to impede on their holiday.

She was alone on Christmas Eve. Draco was alone on Christmas Eve. Moreover, if she had just been truthful with him (which was the very thing she accused him of not being), and had told him that she really wanted to spend the holiday with him, neither of them would be alone. She mucked up everything.

What's more, she knew that she was now completely in love with Draco. She had long since viewed him as more than a friend. Every time she wanted to tell him, she chickened out. Sometimes he seemed so distant and remote, and sometimes she felt as if he was her best friend in the world, and she didn't want to mess things up.

Besides, he couldn't love her in return. She knew that deep in her heart.

They had been friends for a year and a half now, and he was never anything but friendly toward her. She had to accept that and move on.

That didn't mean she had to be happy about it. She grabbed a whole fruitcake, a glass of milk, a fork, and went to the den. She sat in her dad's old chair and turned on the telly, to an old holiday movie. She said, "Happy Christmas, everyone," and took a big bite of fruitcake.

There was a knock on the door. She wasn't certain she wanted to answer it. She didn't usually answer the door when she was alone. It was one of her little phobias. She went to the front door and looked out the side window. It was Draco.

She threw open the door and jumped into his arms, throwing one arm around his neck, the other hand still holding the fruitcake. He gladly accepted her embrace, by throwing his arms around her waist and picking her up from the ground.

"Whoa, Granger," he said. He placed her back down on the ground. He looked at the front of his coat and said, "What's all over my coat?"

"I forgot I had a fruitcake in my hand. Sorry." She began to pick pieces of gooey fruitcake off his jacket.

"What the hell is a fruitcake?" he asked.

"No one really knows so never mind. What are you doing here?" she asked.

"It's Christmas, and forgive me if I'm wrong, but I'm sure I was invited." He walked in the door. She ran to the kitchen to deposit the fruitcake. He looked around. There was a bright tree in the window of the front room. He could hear the sounds of a television from another room. The thing that struck him as strange, however, was that besides himself, she seemed to be alone, and on Christmas Eve.

Later, they were sitting on the floor of the living room, the only light coming from the fireplace and the tree lights. They were laughing, having spirits, and reminiscing about their best and worst Christmas presents.

"Well, that doesn't seem too bad," she said.

"I'm sorry, Granger, but when you're nine years old, and you want a new broom from your great aunt and you get a copy of _Hogwarts a History_ instead, you're a bit disappointed. I know in Grangerland, _Hogwarts a History_ would be your little wet dream, but for me, I was devastated."

"Watch your mouth," she said.

"Sorry, replace 'wet dream' with the phrase, 'ideal present'," he laughed.

"I meant, don't ever say disparaging remarks about _Hogwarts a History_," she said back.

He laughed. "What's your worst present?" he asked.

Just then, the phone rang. She put down her cup of 'Christmas Cheer' and went to get it without answering his question. She came back in the living room with a frown on her face. "I think my worst Christmas present just came to pass, because my mum is still in surgery, and will have to stay until morning."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I'm glad you came," she said softly.

Standing in front of the tree, with the red, green and gold lights illuminating her from behind, and the gentle glow of the wood fire highlighting her from the side, he had one thought and one thought only. She was so lovely. He held out his hand. She continued to frown as she placed her hand in his. He pulled her down to the floor, where his back was against the front of the sofa. She started to sit beside him, but he steered her so she was sitting in front of him.

She leaned against his chest, and he placed his arms around her. She leaned her head against his shoulder, to look up in his eyes. "I hate being alone."

"I do, too," he said.

"No, I mean, I really do. I can't tell you what it means to me that you're here," she said. She turned to look at the roaring fire. Even though it was warm in front of the flames, she shivered.

He held her tighter. "I'm glad I came," he said, repeating what she had just said moments before. He felt as if for the first time in his life everything was right. She fit perfectly in the circle of his arms. He wanted to tell her so badly how her felt about her, but he was afraid. Sometimes he thought she had feelings for him as well, and sometimes he wasn't sure. He whispered in her ear, "You're my best friend, Hermione." It was as close to "I love you" as he felt he could muster.

She cocked her head to the side, and put her arms on top of his. She rubbed his arms up and down and said, "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been in my life. My early years might have been a bit brighter, but I wouldn't bet on a happy ending for my future."

He chuckled and said, "I was always so horrible to you in school."

"Sometimes boys treat girls horribly because they like them. Maybe you had a crush on me back then," she said, smiling. She looked up at him.

"No, I'm pretty sure I hated you," he said.

They both laughed.

"Okay," she said. She suddenly felt brave. "What about now?"

"I'm pretty sure I don't hate you, now," he said as a joke.

"I don't hate you, either."

They held each other for so long that she soon felt drowsy, and she let her eyes droop until they closed completely. He continued to hold her, his back supported by the sofa, his long legs on either side of hers, and bent slightly at the knees. He took advantage of her sleepy state to kiss her cheek, gently, almost like a whisper. She opened her eyes, and he flinched. She knew what he had done, and it made her happy. She said, "Tell me what you want for Christmas."

In his mind, he had but one thought – her. He wanted her. He began to tell her about his best Christmas growing up, instead. The sound of his deep voice reverberated against her back, and the steady cadence and deep vibrato of his soothing voice soon lured her back into a complete relaxed state. She couldn't even tell what he was saying any longer. She just knew he was there, and that was enough.

She leaned over slightly, so her head angled on his shoulder, instead of his chest. His arms went from around her arms, to envelope her waist. His right hand was flat against her stomach, and his left hand came up to her neck. She felt her chest constrict. She wanted him to kiss her. She closed her eyes, and angled her face toward his.

He wanted to kiss her. He hunched his shoulders, and placed his cheek next to hers. He moved his hands from around her waist and let them travel lightly from her shoulders down to her elbows, to her hands, his fingertips and fingernails skimming her lightly, making her arm hair stand on end. The warmth of him against her made her feel safer than she had ever felt, safer than she felt she had a right to feel.

Minutes passed with his hands continuing their up and down pursuit of her arms. His lips grazed her neck, soft as a feather, and she fought to control her breathing. Was this real? Was this a dream? Was this a Christmas miracle?

She was afraid if she asked him what was going on he might stop, and she didn't want him ever to stop, unless he wanted to kiss her lips. He could stop to do that. He placed one of her hand in his and examined her palm with his free hand, while holding it with the other. His touch was soft, but electric. He traced each line, crevice, and contour of her palm, and then he brought it to his mouth and kissed the center of her hand.

She opened her eyes to peer up into his face. His eyes were closed. He kissed her wrist. He opened his eyes, and brought her arms, along with his, back around their bodies. He smiled at her. She said, "Draco." That was all the encouragement he needed. He was going to kiss her.

Then their perfect Christmas present was ruined by the sound of the doorbell ringing. Hermione actually shook her head. Draco started to breath hard, as she scrambled to stand. She went to the door as he struggled to sit up on the couch.

There at the door was Theo. He looked a sight. He was quiet, and it appeared he had been crying. Hermione rushed from the door, back to the archway, which opened to the living room. Draco was on the sofa, his head in his hands. He looked up and asked, "Who's at the door?"

"Draco, come quick, something's wrong with Theo."

Draco heard the urgency in her voice. He stood up and raced to the front door. On the doorstep stood their friend, white as a sheet, and shaking all over. Hermione ushered him in the foyer.

"What's wrong, Theo?" Draco asked. Hermione placed her hand on his arm.

"My father's been killed. He died in prison. On Christmas Eve, can you believe it? My mum's hysterical. I couldn't stay there, I just couldn't." He walked farther into the entryway, his tears flowing freely. Hermione looked at Draco, he looked back at Hermione, and they both thought the same thing: Thank God, the bastard was finally dead. Then, as if in harmony, they thought of their friend's pain, and they helped him to the couch, and they sat up with him all night as he cried.


	16. 16 Nothing Remains the Same

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 16: Nothing Remains the Same:**

School resumed and Draco and Hermione never once spoke of what 'almost' happened at Christmas. A new awkwardness, an unwelcome feeling to both, came between them and neither knew what to do about it.

Winter turned to spring. It was soon time for exams. Hermione was frantic, and spent most of her free time studying. Draco spent his free time working at the school's Library, earning extra cash to help pay his share of the rent. He had never had a job before, but he knew that the job in the Library would not only help him earn extra income, but would keep him close to Hermione, since she was practically a permanent resident.

Theo fell into an awkward phase as well. He now went through bouts of depression. Draco wondered if Hermione's assessment from before was correct, and perhaps Theo's 'happy-go-lucky' demeanor was always just a mask. Maybe this was the real Theo. After all, how could he still be mourning for his father? He died five months ago, and he was an evil man.

Draco often wondered if the real reason Theo ran away from Hermione that fateful day at Hogwarts was that he recognized one of the men as his father. They had never discussed it. Draco always wanted to ask him why. There were many questions he had for his friend, such as: Why did you run away? Why do you sometimes cry at night? How could you love a man who was evil personified? How could you look Granger in the face, knowing what your father did to her? However, those question remained unasked, and therefore, unanswered.

Draco was on a high ladder at the Library, returning books to an upper shelf the Muggle way, when he felt someone rattle the ladder. He held onto a shelf and looked down. It was she. She smiled up at him.

"Do you want me to break my neck?" he asked.

"Not really," she said.

"Not really?" he asked back. He said, "Be a dear heart and hand me one of those books on the ground."

"A what?" she asked.

"A book. A thing you read," Draco said. He knew her remark was really due to that fact that he called her a 'dear heart'.

She snickered and picked up a book. He placed it on the shelf. He held out his hand. "Be a sweetie and hand me another," he mocked.

She laughed again and picked up another. This was nice, she thought, even if he was rather acting a fool, calling her all those stupid names. She handed him another.

He placed it on the shelf too and then said, "Honey pot, hand me another."

"HONEY POT?" She laughed outright. She said, "Get it yourself."

He pulled out his wand. She looked around and said, "Put that away, stupid arse." She picked up another book.

"I love when you call me pet names," he said. He put the last book on the shelf and climbed down.

Once on the floor, he held one rung of the ladder and turned sideways to face her. To his surprise, she climbed up two rungs and turned to face him the best she could, only one foot on a rung, her hand holding onto the side. She was eye level with him. She said, "So this is what it feels like to be as tall as you. Interesting. It's like a whole new world."

He sat on the ground and said, "This is what it feels like to be you."

She frowned and said, "I'm not that short."

"Oh, really? Well, at least from this height I can look up your skirt."

She kicked out at him, and he grabbed her foot and took off her shoe. She started to fall and he stood up quickly and put his hands around her waist. He placed her back on the ground, minus one shoe. He didn't move. They were pressed together closely. She reveled in the feeling. They were flirting with each other, and they were close. It was like old times, or maybe, 'missed' times.

"You've been working so hard, I haven't seen you much," she said. She noticed that he was still pressed against her.

"Thanks for getting me this job, by the way, and I've seen you. You're here all the time," he said. He noticed that she hadn't pushed him away. He missed her. More than words could say.

"I can't very well bother you at work, so I've been trying to behave and not talk to you," she explained. She had been studying more and more at the Library, just to be close to him.

"You're talking to me now," He said. He put her shoe on top of a book on a shelf high above her head, and then he let his hand come down the side of the ladder slowly, until it was right above her head. He placed his other hand in the same position on the other side. She was trapped, and she liked it.

"Am I bothering you now?" she asked. She felt stupid with her backside pressed against the ladder, and her arms flat at her sides. She finally placed her hands on his chest.

He couldn't help but smile. The feel of her touch on his chest made all sorts of visions pass through his mind. How he wished he had kissed her all those months ago at Christmas. She certainly seemed willing at the time. She seemed willing now. He leaned down, his warm breath on her cheek. He said in her ear, "You are bothering me, but in a pleasant way." Let her take that comment anyway she wanted.

He felt her breath come out in tiny, little puffs, tickling his neck. She said, "You're bothering me, too."

He leaned away, only a fraction, then leaned forward again and placed his lips on hers, softly, and only for a moment. When he leaned away again, she had her fingertips on her lips. She felt her stomach drop to her feet. His vision was blurred. He leaned toward her again, her hands back on his chest, and he said, "Did that bother you."

"In a way," she said. He looked at her again.

"In a good way?" he asked.

"Yes," she said.

He leaned forward again, but she pushed him away. At first, he frowned and looked confused, but he saw that a student had walked down the aisle. Draco pulled the ladder to another section, and continued his work. Hermione asked the other student, a male, to get her shoe for her. Draco forgot he left her shoe up on a high shelf.

The man asked her how her shoe got up there, and she said, "Who knows."

That made Draco smile. The man gave her the shoe back, and she placed it on her foot. He climbed the ladder to put away more books, and as she passed him, she reached out and touched his leg. He looked down and she said, "Come to my house for dinner tonight."

"Is that a request, or an order?" he asked.

"Whatever you want it to be," she said.

When dinnertime came, Draco knocked on her door. She opened it, but she didn't seem happy to see him. When she opened the door all the way, he saw why. Theo was there.

Draco thought it was just going to be the two of them, and by the look on her face, she did, too. However, he knew that she would never turn Theo away, no more than he would, especially as he seemed so sad lately.

They ate, and of course, they studied. Later that night, Theo said he had to leave to study for an exam. He had different classes than they did, and he wasn't doing very well this year. His off and on depression had caused his grades to slip. He left to study, and Draco was left to help her to clean up her dishes. He said, "Wash or dry?"

"I'll wash." She handed him a clean dishtowel, and she washed a glass.

After they had a small, mock argument, about the fact that she left spots on the glasses, and he pushed her out of the way so he could wash them by himself, she stated, "I will never wash dishes with you again! From now on you will have to do them yourself!"

They ended up on the couch, where she was pretending, with some actual blows, to hit him as she made her declaration. He turned to his back, and noticed, almost painfully, that she was still sitting across his body.

He wanted to kiss her so badly that he knew if he didn't move her off him in a second, she would also know how much he wanted to kiss her. He lifted her up, away from him and then he said, "What do you have around this place for dessert?"

She stood up to go get them some biscuits. She offered him one and said, "This is the only sweet thing in the whole flat."

He said, "Not the only sweet thing."

She held up the other cookie and said, "Well, no, this one, too."

He had meant her. She could be so obtuse. He liked that about her. She was fresh, innocent, and unaffected. She was sweet. That was the perfect word to describe her.

"What are you going to do this summer?" she asked, taking small bites of her biscuit, so it would last longer.

"I need to find another job. My boss at the Library said that not enough students are here during the summer, so they won't need my help, but that I have a job come fall," he said.

She jumped up and down excited and said, "Join Theo and I! He got us jobs at a resort. It's a wizarding resort! He was going to tell you about it tonight. Please say yes! It'll be fun to spend the whole summer together."

Her happiness was contagious. He said, "Don't you usually go home for summer?"

"Mum is going to Nepal for something called, 'Operation Smile' where medical and dental people help underprivileged children obtain dental surgery. She'll be gone all summer, and I can't face the summer alone. I would go to the Burrow, but Ron and Harry's Auror training goes on all year long, so they will still be in school this summer," she explained.

He ate the rest of his biscuit, took the rest of hers, which she had been nibbling on like a mouse, and popped it in his mouth. He said, "That would be great." He would have preferred it to be only him and her, but at least he would get to see her this summer. The other option was not to see her at all, and that was something he wouldn't be able to tolerate. He decided he would tell her his feelings this summer. He was going to tell her he loved her.

They sat on her couch, side my side, and she placed her head on his shoulder. She said, "Tell me what you're thinking right this very moment."

He closed his eyes and said, "I don't want to jeopardize our friendship."

She looked at him and said, "That's what you're thinking?"

He smiled down at her and explained, "No, but what I'm thinking might jeopardize our friendship."

"Tell me, please," she said.

"I'm thinking that the little kiss we had today was nice. I was thinking I would like to do that again," he admitted.

"Then do it," she said back. Their eyes locked, and the air between them grew thick with an electric current, which passed from him to her, and back again.

The physical attraction Draco felt for her was second to the other feelings he had. He loved her heart and her soul. Her mind and her will to survive. He loved everything about her. He wanted her, that much was true, but it was more than that. Much more.

He had never wanted to kiss her more than he did right now. He leaned toward her, his head bent, and his mouth over hers. She didn't push him away, slap him, or call him any foul names. Those were all good signs. He let his fingertips graze lightly over her cheekbone. He put his hand on the side of her head, and laced his fingers in her hair. She placed one hand on his neck. She wanted this, too.

The warmth of his breath was on her mouth. She opened it slightly. He settled his mouth on hers, and softly kissed her. The softness gave way to a harder pressure as her hand went from his neck to his hair. She pressed him closer, and he pulled her closer still. The tip of his tongue came out to skim her lips, and she tilted her head just enough, and she let out a small moan. That was an invitation if he had ever heard one. He parted her lips more and began to explore the inside of her mouth.

It was pure, sweet, wet, and right. What started as a hesitant kiss grew between them to mean so much more. His lips went from her mouth to her face, to her neck. He rained small kisses up and down her neck as he pulled her over to him, and settled her on his lap. She bunched the material at the front of his shirt in her fists. Her heart was thumping so loudly she was sure he could hear it. He kissed her as if he was a man who had been denied nourishment for too long. His mouth found hers once more, and they continued to kiss.

After too short a time, in his opinion, she pushed him away slightly. He didn't want to do anything to frighten her, so he stopped.

"What will we do about Theo?" she asked.

He knew what she was asking. He said, "We'll think of something, but Hermione, I want this. I want you. I do."


	17. 17 The Summer that Changed it All

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 17: The Summer that Changed it All:**

"Tell me why we're driving to a magical resort again, instead of apparating," Draco complained from the passenger side of Hermione's car.

"I might want my car while we're up here. It's beautiful countryside, and there's nothing better to do on a summer afternoon than to take a long drive in the country," she reminded him. She had already told him that twice.

"I can think of a few things," Theo snickered from the backseat. Draco smiled at him, looked back at Hermione, who frown, and he smiled wider. He could think of a few things, too.

"You know Granger, if you had already taught Theo and me how to drive, we could help with this little trip," Draco lectured.

"Yes, tell us again, Malfoy, how far did you travel on your adventure driving the couch?" Theo joked from the backseat.

"Seriously, it's unfair," Draco complained as Hermione and Theo continued to laugh. "Theo got a real lesson, in a real car, and all I got was a lesson on which pedal were the peaches and which pedal was represented by the tomatoes."

"Do you remember?" Hermione asked.

Draco thought for a moment and said, "The tomatoes were the accelerator."

Hermione snickered and said, "They were the brake! That's why you're still learning on the couch, Mister."

"Damn," Draco retorted. Theo laughed and leaned back in the backseat, his legs up on one side. He shut his eyes. Hermione looked over her shoulder at him and then she quickly glanced at Draco. She looked away when he stared back at her.

Draco had decided to wait and tell Theo about his and Hermione's 'new' friendship until they got to their new summer jobs. It only happened two days ago, and they had all been too busy packing that they had barely had time to talk, let alone really TALK. As they climbed in Hermione's auto this morning, she said, "Are we going to talk to Theo?"

Draco said, "Soon, I promise."

They drove a while longer and while they were on a long stretch of road, Draco took her left hand in his right. Theo was leaning against the backseat, his eyes still closed, so he couldn't see them. She smiled without looking at him.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this happy. He wasn't sure he had ever been this happy.

"When are you going to teach me to drive, Hermione, for real?" Draco asked, while still holding her hand.

"I'll teach you both this summer. Theo has wanted to learn more, too," she replied.

Draco looked at Theo in the rearview mirror. He said, "Theo, wake up." Theo opened his eyes. "What the hell are our jobs, anyway?"

"You and I are waiters. Hermione is working in the kitchen," he said.

"Sounds glamorous," he retorted.

"It sounds like we got what we could at the last minute," Theo reminded him. "You know, just last summer I was a guest here, and now I'm working here." He looked out the side window and became quiet.

Hermione looked quickly over to Draco. He gave her hand another gentle squeeze. Theo's mother was having financial troubles. They weren't sure why, but for some reason after his father died, it seemed that someone, somehow, drained most of their foreign accounts. They still had some money at Gringotts, but for the most part, Theo was now on his own, to pay for University and the like, just like Draco. He hadn't adapted as well as Draco had. He was having a hard time. Theo suddenly smiled and leaned toward the front seat. Draco had to let go of Hermione's hand quickly. Theo said, "At least we're all three spending the summer together, and Hermione is going to teach us both to drive. That should be fun."

And just like that, he was happy once more. His emotions were constantly like a seesaw, up and down. He would spend days in bed, alone, not talking to anyone, and then he would be bouncing off the walls, happy and carefree. Hermione told Draco that he needed help. Draco told Hermione he just needed time. Whatever he needed, he had his friends, and that was what was important.

They pulled up the drive and Theo said, "Just pull up to the portico Hermione, and the valet will park the car."

"I think we need to pull around back," Draco said glumly.

"Oh, yeah," Theo realized.

Hermione looked back at Theo and gave him a small smile. She pulled around back.

Two weeks later, they were settling into a happy enough routine. Hermione helped prep the food for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Draco and Theo worked as waiters. They had every evening free, and one afternoon a week. Theo and Draco shared a flat over the kitchen with three other waiters. Hermione was in a room at the back of the large resort, by herself, but in a wing with the other kitchen staff.

The first week, Hermione and Draco had the same afternoon off. She decided to try to teach him to drive again. She was in their flat and she handed him a pillow. She had a can of tomatoes and a can of peaches as pedals, which she placed in front of him. She put an umbrella in the middle cushion of the couch. Draco said, "Is it going to rain?" He put the pillow behind him.

She reached behind him and handed him the pillow again. She told him, "It's very important you don't ever let go of the steering wheel."

"This is a pillow." He thought she was smart enough to know that.

"I know."

"Hermione, we've already done this twice now. I think I can drive with a pillow, already. Please, take me in a real car, just this once. Maybe we can even really snog this time."

She laughed and said, "What are we waiting for, come on!" She grabbed his hand and they ran outside. It was pouring rain. They ran to her car and she got in the driver's side, but then scooted over. He got in beside her and shut the door.

"Do you want me to learn in the rain?" he asked. He was slightly apprehensive.

"Maybe not, but we're already in the car," she replied. Then she smiled.

"Ah, the snogging is what you're after, little girl," he said. He matched her smile. She pushed on his shoulder. He pushed her back.

She pushed him harder. He pulled on both her wrists and pulled her over to him. The damn steering wheel was in the way. Too bad, it wasn't a pillow. He wanted to pull her onto his lap. He had to settle for having her as close to him as he could get her. He placed one hand on the back of her neck, while the other hand still held one wrist. He brought her to him and kissed her soundly. She moved so that she was slightly on her knees. She pulled away for a moment, but only to lean over him.

He wondered what she was doing as she leaned across him, and as she reached down on the floor by the door…not that he was complaining. Then, without notice, the seat back fell backwards. She tumbled over with him. He was on his back, holding her on top of him and he said, "Ah, the seat goes back. See, cars are made for snogging."

She nodded and said, "And for so much more."

"You embarrass me, Granger," he joked. He reached up and stroked her hair.

"I meant transportation, you git," she protested.

"Sure you did," he smiled back. He stroked her hair again and this time she leaned forward and kissed him. She kissed his lips gently, and then with her body against his, and her hands on his face, she kissed his eyes, then his forehead, and then down around his jaw. He shut his eyes, delighted at the feel of her body on his body, and her mouth on his mouth.

She lingered on his lips this time, and when she opened her lips, he naturally opened his.

He reached around her and let his hand travel down to her bum, where he grasped it lightly. She kissed him again. He moaned. She shifted on him, and then she lifted her face from his and said, "I can't do much more, not yet. I don't feel right until we tell Theo. Please, understand."

He did. He loved her even more for that. He might ache for her to continue, but he understood why she didn't want to.

Instead, they spent the rest of their afternoon off in her car talking. It was one of the nicest afternoons he had ever had.

Draco's next afternoon off was with Theo. Hermione's afternoon off that week wasn't until the next day. Draco dropped by the kitchen after lunch and asked to see Hermione outside. She stepped outside, wiping her hands on her apron. He grabbed her hands as soon as she was done and pulled her around to the back of the building. He kissed her quickly and said, "I've been dying to do that for days."

"Are you going to tell Theo this afternoon?"

"Yes, I will," he promised.

"Draco, if he seems too fragile, or in one of his sad moods, don't tell him yet," she said. She was remembering her father's moods. She had never told Draco about them, but both she and her mother constantly had to walk on eggshells when he was in one of his "dark moods", and she felt the same way around Theo when he was sad. Without ever discussing it, Draco felt the same.

He merely nodded. He leaned forward grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her lips again, this time lingering a bit longer than the first quick kiss.

He heard Theo calling his name. He winked at Hermione and went off with Theo.

The men decided to take a long hike in the woods. While in the woods, Draco asked, "Can we take a break?"

They stopped as the path widened, and Theo climbed on a low-lying branch, and sat down with his back against the trunk of the tree. He said, "Hermione seems like she's having a good time so far."

"I think so. It's hard work though," Draco said. He climbed up the same tree and sat on a branch above Theo. He reached for a higher limb and broke off a small branch. He whacked it against the tree. "Theo, tell me the truth, how are you doing since your father died."

"I'm fine," he said quickly. He jumped off the low branch and sat under the tree.

"Hermione thinks you're depressed," Draco said as he jumped down next to his friend.

"Well," Theo began, "she's just being such a little sweetheart. I'm fine, really. I mean, I miss him and all, but it's not as if he was in my life anymore. He was in prison."

Where he belonged, in Draco's opinion. Draco looked over at Theo and said, "Be truthful to me, do you ever think of Hermione as more than a friend?"

Theo was quiet for a long time and then said, "Am I that transparent about everything?"

Draco sucked in his breath. Theo stood up and with his back to Draco he declared, "Fine, Hermione's right, I'm not handling things well. I feel sad all the time. I feel like I'm disconnected from my own body. I have dark, disturbing thoughts that I can't control. Sometimes I think my sadness is swallowing me whole, and the only light in my life is my friendship with you," he turned and looked at Draco, "and the way I feel about her." He took a step closer to Draco and said, "Heaven help me, Malfoy, but I think I'm in love with her."

Draco felt lightheaded, and for the first time in years tears actually threatened to come to his eyes. He couldn't breathe. He looked down. Theo kneeled beside him, grabbed his arm, and pleaded, "Don't tell her though. At least not yet. I have some things to work through first, and then maybe I can let her know. She might not even feel the same way about me. I think the hope that she might love me back is the only thing that keeps me going sometimes. She's the only thing that makes my black days brighter. She's the reason I get out of bed in the morning. If I didn't have you and her, I would have nothing. I would have no reason to live."

There it was, concise and to the point. Theo Nott, the stupid bastard, the stupid fool, and Draco's oldest and dearest friend, the person he loved the most after Hermione and his mother, had just ruined Draco's life and he didn't even know it. Draco couldn't tell him now. Maybe he would never be able to tell him.

He didn't even know how he would tell Hermione. The only good thing was that he hadn't yet told Hermione that he loved her. Thank goodness for that. Draco was confident that she didn't love him yet, at least not in the way that he loved her. She would get over this.

He would have to make her get over this. He couldn't hurt Theo, not right now, with his emotional state so precarious. He knew what he had to do.

The men walked back to the resort. That evening, all of the kitchen staff and the wait staff were outside, sitting around a bonfire. Hermione was still in her room getting ready. Draco wished she would just hurry up and come outside already. When he saw her approach, he knew what he had to do.

He walked up to a girl named Gloria and smiled at her. She smiled back. He held out his hand. She took it. He pulled her to him and said, "What do you say you and I go find a spot to be alone?"

The girl giggled and took Draco's hand and led him around the side of the building just as Hermione came into view. She immediately frowned. She felt that her chest hurt. She felt flushed and confused. She sat next to Theo and he asked, "Can I get you a butterbeer?"

She nodded, but didn't say a word. She continued to look toward the side of the building where Draco and that girl had just disappeared.

A few moments later, a disheveled Draco, and the strange girl, came back around the building, smiling and holding hands. He let go of her hand and put his around her waist. Then she leaned over and kissed his cheek. Hermione's eyes were on them the whole time. Draco felt like the biggest bastard in the world. He felt like a coward. He looked over at her and he immediately knew that he had messed up. He should have just told her what Theo had said, and that it wouldn't work between them, because of Theo.

That wouldn't have hurt her as much as he had just hurt her. Theo walked back over to her to hand her the butterbeer, but she refused. She looked Draco in the eyes, with a pained expression, and she ran back inside.

Theo looked confused but sat back down and drank the butterbeer.

The girl Gloria asked Draco if he wanted to go to her room. He said, "No way in hell." He turned from the group and apparated to his own room, where he went into the bathroom and vomited in disgust.


	18. 18 Love Remains the Same

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 18: Love Remains the Same:**

The rest of the summer was hell for Draco. He felt as if he was back at Hogwarts. He went back to playing a part. He hung out with a different girl every few days. He never explained anything to Hermione. They never spoke anymore, at least not about anything important. They talked about school. They talked about books and movies. They talked about current events. They never had any meaningful conversations. Theo kept trying to find out from both of them what had happened between them, but neither would tell him anything.

Draco knew but couldn't admit it.

Hermione didn't know, so she couldn't tell him anything, anyway.

She never went to Draco and asked him what happened either. Sometimes Draco was glad for that, and sometimes he wanted to explain everything to her.

Summer soon ended, as did their potential love life. Somehow, as summer turned to fall, and fall to winter, they became tentative friends once more, mostly because of their shared friendship with Theo. Hermione continued to be concerned for the man. Draco continued to brush things aside, insisting that he just needed time and his friends.

A conversation concerning that matter finally took place between Draco and Hermione, started by Theo himself. Theo and Hermione had a disagreement one late winter evening concerning a letter he got from his mother. His mother wanted him to come home for the up coming Christmas holidays. Hermione told him that she thought it was a bad plan, and besides, the three of them had already decided that they were going to stay at school for the holidays.

"We've already decided," Hermione whined from her place beside Theo on his couch. "I already told my mother, and she's going skiing with friends. Do you want me to have to spend Christmas alone?"

"You won't be alone. Malfoy will still be here," Theo said. Draco sat at the kitchen table; feeling slighted by Hermione's comment, but determined not to show it.

Theo was the glue that now held Hermione and Draco together, and everyone seemed to know it but Theo. Hermione quickly picked up her books and slammed everything into her satchel. "Fine, whatever, spend the holiday with your mother. I just don't think it's a healthy place to be. I don't think she's a good person for you to be around right now."

Theo stood up so suddenly it scared Draco. He looked over at the pair who both now stood in front of the couch. Theo threw a glass he had in his hand across the room, where it hit a wall and shattered. Draco stood up while Hermione cowered.

"I'm so sick of you saying things like that, Hermione!" Theo bellowed at her. "Nothing's wrong with my mum! Nothing's wrong with going home!"

Hermione threw her bag down and said, "Nothing's wrong except for the fact that every time you come back from a weekend visit, you spend two days in bed, depressed! I'm tired of picking up the pieces of your heart after your visits, Theo!"

Theo rushed up to her and grabbed her shoulders. As soon as he did, Draco rushed over and stood behind Hermione. Draco placed his hands over her shoulders as well, under Theo's hands, and pulled her back against him. "Stop it, both of you," Draco shouted. "Let go of her," he ordered. Theo dropped his hands. Draco placed Hermione behind his back, between him and his friend. "Just go have a nice visit, Theo." He turned to Hermione and said, "Stop trying to cause trouble, Hermione."

He hated chastising her, because she was right. Theo's mum only fed his depressed state. She was like a fester on his open, wounded heart, but Draco didn't want to admit it. He just wanted everyone to get along and be relatively happy.

"I'm leaving," Hermione said. She picked up her bag and left.

Draco turned to Theo and said, "What's wrong with you? Why did you become so angry with her?"

"I've seen you two fight worse than that," Theo said, feeling defeated. He sat down. "Hell, you two are barely friends anymore. You don't even spend time together unless I'm here. What happened last summer?"

"We'll talking about you and her right now," Draco groaned. "Not me and her."

"There's nothing wrong," Theo sighed. "I'm just tired. I'm tired of my mum's nagging and tears, I'm tired of Hermione's constant worrying, I'm tired of you and her not getting along, and mostly I'm tired of being tired." He walked to his room and slammed the door.

Well, Draco was tired, too. He was tired of helping a man who didn't seem to know how to help himself. He was tired of denying his feelings for a woman who now apparently hated him. Draco shouted, "I'm tired, too!" He got his coat, scarf, and hat, and ran out of their flat.

He didn't get far. He saw Hermione sitting on a bench on campus, near their flat. He knew she hated walking home alone at night. One of them, usually Theo these days, walked her back to her flat, or drove her, since Theo now had a car. He walked up to her and sat down.

"Theo will be okay," he assured.

She looked at him, tears in her eyes, and said, "No he won't! Are you blind? He's worse everyday, and when he comes back from being at home, he's almost catatonic. That place is poison to him. He needs help, Draco!"

"He'll be fine," he repeated.

She turned her head from him, placed her gloved hands over her face, and cried. A few people walked by and gave them strange looks. He wanted to comfort her, but they didn't have that sort of relationship any longer, did they? He couldn't remember the last time he really touched her. Yes, he could. It was the last time they kissed, last summer. He touched her accidentally a few times after that, but nothing remotely resembling 'touching' had occurred since then.

Maybe it was time. "Please don't cry," he whispered. He pulled her to him, and she slumped over his lap. He placed his right hand on her back and rubbed circles over her coat. He placed his left hand on top of her hat, on her head.

"What happened to us?" she said through the sobs.

He didn't want to have this conversation. He was happy just to hold her. Why did she always have to talk? He said, "Things just change."

She sat up and pushed on his chest. He frowned. "You kiss me one morning, tell me that you're going to tell Theo about us, then that evening you go off and kiss another girl. You broke my heart, Draco Malfoy. Not only that, but we were friends, and now we really aren't. We're more like associate friends: both friends of Theo's, so friends by association, in case you were wondering what that meant." She brushed her gloves over her eyes, to dry the tears.

She was right, but he didn't know what to say to her. Therefore, he said nothing. "You have nothing to say?" she asked. He shook his head no. "Did you even like me just a little?" she inquired.

He looked away. He crossed his legs and continued to look away.

"Fine, Draco. Do you still want to be friends at least? If you regretted kissing me, and flirting with me, and leading me on, because that's what you did, I accept it. You regret it. However, don't you still want to be friends? I miss my friend." She started to cry harder and placed her hands once again over her face.

He turned to her, agony on his face, and in every fiber of his being. He felt so frustrated. She was right about everything, and that made him angry. She was right about Theo. He did need help. She was right about them, too. They weren't friends any longer. The only thing she wasn't right about was that he never regretted kissing her. He only regretted that she was right about the fact that they were no longer friends. "I miss being your friend," he finally said.

He pulled her over to him, and for at least an hour, she cried and he held her. It was the least he could do. Finally, she sat up and stated, "I have to go home. I have an exam tomorrow, and so do you." She picked up her bag and started walking.

"I'll walk you back," he said.

"I don't want you to," she retorted. "Not unless we're at least friends again."

"We're at least friends," he repeated. He took her bag from her and they began to walk. They passed by two young lovers, wrapped in each other's embrace and Draco's heart went out to them. He envied them. The woman beside him was the one he wanted to share that sort of love with, so he made a vow right then and there – graduation was still over a year away, but if Theo didn't tell Hermione by graduation that he loved her, then he was going to tell her that _he_ did. He wouldn't wait any longer than that.

They reached her door. He said, "Do you still want to spend Christmas here with me?"

She nodded. "I don't want to be alone."

"I suppose if those are your two options, I should feel honoured," he joked. She smiled.

A man walked up the stairs to a door on the second floor and as he approached them, he looked up at her landing and said, "You look pretty tonight, Hermione."

Draco glared at the man. He quickly opened his door and went into his flat. "Who's that?" Draco demanded as he pointed down at where the man stood.

"He moved in downstairs. Since the landlady's husband died, she made the second floor into two more flats so she could have some more income. He's nice. He's French."

"Damn frog," Draco said.

She laughed and said, "That's not a nice word to call a French person, Malfoy. Rather like when you called me Mudblood back in school, and by the way, your ancestry is French, isn't it?"

He pointed at her and confirmed, "I'm English, Granger! One hundred percent, and happy about it, thank you. I can't do anything to change my ancestry!"

"You always speak proudly of your French heritage," she reminded him.

He had nothing to say in defensive of that statement. He didn't hate the French. He was proud of his French heritage. He just didn't want some French man to say 'Hello' to her. She was his….friend. That was how he had to view her for the time being. They stood outside her flat and merely stared at one another for what felt like a very long time. She was still in the same flat that she had been in since day one. Finally, she unlocked her door and turned to face him.

Then, she smiled.

His heart melted. He reached out for her, but then pulled his hand back. No, he wouldn't hurt her again. Touching was not a good idea, unless she was crying or something. He said, "See you tomorrow."

He jaunted down the stairs, and turned back once, raised his hand, and then jogged down the sidewalk, back to his flat.

Hermione stood in the doorway and decided something. If Draco was so stupid and bullheaded that he was never going to admit that he loved her, then she would tell him that she loved him. Graduation was still over a year away, but she would tell him then. She would tell Draco that she loved him on Graduation day.

Theo looked out his window, his heart full and heavy. He did hate going home for the holidays, but his mother needed him. All she ever wanted to do was talk about his father, and he didn't want to talk about the man. There was always something dark, deep inside, but never on the surface, that bothered Theo about his father. It was more than the fact that he was once a Death Eater. He felt like it had something to do with Hermione, but he wasn't sure what it was. He only had flashes, but whatever it was that he couldn't remember, he associated it with Hermione, and he wasn't sure why.

He hated that he had hurt her this evening. He almost laid a hand on her. His father used to beat his mother. Why did she miss him? Why did he? He wasn't much of a father. Draco hated his father, and by all accounts, at least the elder Malfoy always openly loved his son. Theo was always a disappointment to his father.

Poor Hermione. He did want to spend the holidays with her. He knew that she didn't want to be alone with Malfoy. He would have to tell Draco to be nicer to her. Whatever problem they had between them, they would have to work it out, for all of their sakes.

He decided something else. He was going to tell Hermione that he was in love with her. He would tell her soon. He didn't know when, but soon.


	19. 19 Desperate

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 19: Desperate:**

Another cough racked his body, and he swore that if hair felt pain, even his hair hurt. There were only five weeks until graduation, and there was far too much to do, and getting sick wasn't one of them.

She did this to him. She got him sick, and now she was all like, 'la de da', happy and well, and he felt like death warmed over on a hot summer day.

By the way, he was hot. He threw the sheet off his body and coughed again. She walked into his room and picked the sheet up off the floor. She shook it out and then placed it back over his body. He kicked if off again. She made an exasperated sound, picked it up again, and placed it at the end of the bed. She looked over his body. He only had on a pair of boxers and nothing else. He thought he saw her blush.

She sat on his bed, beside him and felt his head. He knocked her hand away. She placed it back. He knocked it away. She placed his face between both her hands and said, "I don't care if you are sick, Draco Malfoy, if you don't stop acting like a spoiled baby, I'm going to hex your balls off!"

'You're not very good with sick people are you?" he asked.

"You're not a very good sick person," she retorted back. There was actual truth to his statement. She had never been good with sick people. That was why she always avoided her father when he was unwell. That was why she avoided him the day that he killed himself. She often had fleeting thoughts that if perhaps she had taken the time to check on him when she first got home that day, or at least knocked on his door and said, "Daddy, I'm home," maybe he wouldn't have felt alone, sad, and depressed. Maybe he wouldn't have killed himself.

She remained on his bed, her hand suspended in air, as these and other thoughts swirled around her brain. He looked at her with concern, and then he placed his hand over hers and put them both on his forehead. She seemed to come back to earth and she smiled at him, but just as quickly, she frowned.

"You're burning up," she said.

"If other words…"

"You're hot," she said.

"Meaning…"

"Bloody hell, Draco, I mean you have a fever," she said. She leaned over him again, her t-shirt covered chest against his bare chest, and his thoughts became muddled in his brain. Why was she so close? Was he delirious? Was he having delusions brought on by the fever?

Yet, when her lips grazed his forehead lightly, he knew it was real, unbelievably. She sat back up and said, "Definitely. My lips were warm. You have a fever."

"You kissed me," he said.

"I was checking your temperature," she explained.

"With your lips? Were your hands temporarily out to lunch? You had just felt my head with them, declared I had a fever, but still, you had to touch my head with your lips?" He was rambling.

"I'm sorry I kissed you," she said softly. She started to stand up, but he had her arm in his clutches, and he wasn't about to let her go. He liked it when she was close. He liked the feel of her weight on his chest. He liked her.

"Check again, you might have been wrong," he said.

The corner of her mouth turned up slightly, but she fought the smile that threatened to come over her face. She said, "I don't need to check again. You have a fever. I need to get you some fever reducer. Stay here." She tried to stand again, but he still held her tight.

"It's your fault," he whispered.

"I know. I was sick first, and I gave it to you. I'm sorry," she said back. She picked up a wet cloth she had brought in with her from his bedside table and wiped his brow. His hands moved from her arms to her back, so she was free to use her arms, but not free to leave him. He shook his head.

"That's not what I meant," he explained.

"What's my fault, then?" she asked. She leaned against his chest, as both his hands went back to hold her arms. The wet cloth was now resting on his warm chest, and the cold from the compress felt good to his fevered body, but nothing could put out the fire in his soul.

"It's your fault that I'm like this," he said.

"I know, so you said."

"I don't mean that I'm sick, although theoretically, that's your fault as well," he lumbered on, "but what I'm talking about is that it's your fault I'm here. It's your fault that I'm like I am, and that I can't even think straight, or have a good night sleep, or dream happy dreams."

She looked at him painfully. "So all your problems are my fault?" She wasn't sure she liked a sick Draco. She struggled to get out of his grasp, but even sick, he was strong.

"Shut up and let me finish," he huffed.

"Don't ever tell me to shut up!" She pointed at him, her arms still in his hands, her elbows resting on his chest. When she pointed, her index finger touched his cheek.

"Please," he said. He shut his eyes for a moment. Even he wasn't sure what he was trying to say, so how could he expect her to know. Maybe he was delirious. He wanted to tell her everything that was in his heart. He didn't want to wait to tell her at graduation. Who came up with that stupid idea? What if that was too late? What if he died before then? What if she died before then? Why did he just think about her dying? That was a morbid thought. What if instead of them dying, something even worse happened? What was worse than death?

"Draco? You have a far off look in your eyes," she declared.

He tried to clear his head. He was rambling even in his mind. He looked her in the eyes again, and again he said, "Please." He closed his eyes once more.

"Draco?" He had his eyes shut for so long she thought he went to sleep, yet he was still holding her. She finally rested her head on his chest. He let go of her arms long enough to place his arms around her back. "Do you blame me for the fact that you are no longer Draco Malfoy, heir apparent to all things Malfoy?"

He didn't answer right away. Only Hermione would think that. What he was trying to say was that she was his salvation. She was never a detriment. She gave him something real, and she didn't even know it. How could he tell her that? How could he tell her everything that was in his heart? She lifted her head and looked back into his face.

"I love…" he started. No. He would wait until graduation. He shut his eyes, swallowed hard, and then coughed again, releasing her from his arms as he turned to his side. While he coughed, she stood beside him and lightly stroked his arm up and down. He longed for her touch. He wanted to know her touch intimately, daily, and completely. He finished his sentence finally, but not with what he was first going to say. "I love you taking care of me. Go get me something for my fever, like a nice little nurse."

She stroked his fringe of bangs off his hot forehead, and went to the other room. In just a few weeks, she would truly be his. He would tell her that he loved her, she would say it back, and they could start their lives together. Either he was becoming a sentimental fool, or he was having fever-induced illusions, but either way, that was a very nice thought.

Hours later, she sat on the couch of Draco's flat as Theo walked in. He smiled at her and asked, "How's the patient?"

"He went from cranky to talking out of his head, to now sleeping," she explained. "How are you?"

"I have no signs of the illness, yet," he told her. He plopped down on the couch next to her. "I'm really glad that you and Malfoy are good friends again. Last year everything was strained and weird. What happened that summer at the resort, Hermione?"

He had asked that of her many times. Maybe it was time he knew. Maybe if he knew, it would better prepare Theo for when she told Draco that she loved him at graduation. She clarified by saying, "Draco and I were becoming closer than friends. It came on gradually, but that summer we finally declared our feelings."

Theo looked at the floor. He asked, "You told each other that you were in love?"

"No," she started, "but we told each other that we had mutual feelings beyond friendship, and we even kissed a couple of times, and one day, just two weeks after we arrived at the resort, he was finally going to tell you."

Theo looked at her. "He was going to tell me?"

"Yes, but then something must have happened, because he never did and that night he went off with some girl, and that was the end of our 'more than friendship' stage, and he never told me why." Theo looked her deep in the eyes and he thought she looked sad. He also thought he knew why. Draco had tried to tell him, but instead, Theo finally admitted that he was in love with her, and Draco ended up never saying a thing. Theo felt both sad and remorseful at that thought.

"Do you both still have feelings for the other?" he asked.

"I don't know about him, but I might," she admitted.

Theo's thoughts became dark. He couldn't lose her. She was the only thing keeping him alive right now. He felt pressure and pain in his chest at the thought of losing the only bright thing in his life. He sat back and placed his head on the back of the sofa, sighed, and closed his eyes.

"Are you okay? Maybe you're getting sick after all," she said, putting her hand on his forehead. He reached up and took her hand. He brought it to his mouth and kissed the top.

"Do me a favour," he asked desperately.

"Anything," she promised.

He wanted to ask her not to tell Draco that she loved him, but he couldn't really ask that of her. What could he ask, though, if not that? He wanted to cry, and he wasn't sure why. He pulled her to him and all he said was "Help me."

He started to cry. She held him and stroked his back. "I'll do anything that I can."


	20. 20 Graduation and Grey Skies

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 20: Graduation and Grey Skies:**

Where was the sky? All Draco could see were layers upon layers of grey clouds, sitting upon more layers of grey clouds. It if wasn't October, Draco would have thought they were snow clouds, but even in cold and rainy England, it didn't usually snow in October.

There wasn't a hint of blue anywhere above him. Just grey. As far as the eye could see, there were grey clouds. The wind was blowing so hard that the tops of the trees went back and forth. When he first sat down he honestly almost left because of the harsh wind, but then he looked at the note in his pocket, and he knew that no matter what, he would stay. He asked him to come, so he would see what the man had to say, and then he would leave.

A flag on a flagpole in the middle of the University grounds was proof positive that the wind was a lethal thing. The flag flipped and switched wildly in the wind, the metal grommet holding the flag to the pole hitting the metal of the pole, which caused steady, rhythmic 'ting' as metal hit metal.

Where was he? His note said he would be here at 2:30 and it was 2:29, so technically, he wasn't late, but Draco wouldn't wait much past the half hour mark. If Theo missed him, it was his own damn fault.

His note was very cryptic, almost ambiguous. All it said was, "Please meet me at the courtyard of the University at 2:30 on Tuesday. I have something important to tell you. It's about your letter."

The letter. Draco should never have sent that letter, but by all that was holy, Theo deserved to know the truth. Even more than that, Draco wanted to hurt the man that hurt him. Plain and simple. Draco was tired of being the bigger man. Being the bigger man got him nowhere. Being the bigger man lost him the love of his life. Being the bigger man was for fools, and Draco Malfoy was no longer a fool.

Did they really just graduate five short months ago? He looked over at the tree where Hermione had insisted talking their picture. She sent him two copies a month later, even though a month after graduation they were no longer speaking to one another. He kept the one of him and Theo out in the open, but the one of him and Hermione was hidden away. It was special, and for his eyes only.

He remembered her excitement that day. As they were preparing for the ceremony, she told Draco that she felt as if she was floating on air. She felt that she had no worries and that for once in her life she was happy and carefree. She had a sense of accomplishment. The day she had worked so hard for had finally come. Graduation.

Then Draco ruined that day for her, just as Theo ruined it for him. It seemed right that Theo finally got his comeuppance. Hermione had suffered. Draco had suffered, so the man, whose suffering was always so apparent, because he wore it like a badge over his heart, finally got his, and Draco no longer cared. He hoped the letter he sent to Theo caused him to hurt as much as she hurt, and as much as Draco hurt. He was tired of Theo Nott and his pain. Now he knew what real pain was. All that crying alone in his room and his dark moods were just for sympathy.

Except, Draco knew deep in his heart that it wasn't. He knew that Theo was in true pain, and a small, miniscule part of him regretted sending him that letter. Still, he had a right to know. He had a right to know what his bastard of a father had done to his supposed love of his life. His fiancée. Just the thought of calling her that made Draco want to gag.

He looked over at a tree and he could see her in his mind's eye just as clearly as he saw her that day. She walked around the grounds of University after the ceremony, spotted Harry and Ron talking to her mum over by a tree, and she ran to them. Potter twirled her around. Weasley kissed her. Draco felt a pang of jealousy. He looked over and saw that Theo, who was talking to a group of fellow graduates, looked almost as upset as he did at the fact that her two best friends at that moment were not them, but Potter and Weasley, just like old times.

Did she know that Draco was going to tell her that he loved her that day? Would she have cared? What would she have said in response?

His biggest regret, and by far his biggest mistake, was that he hadn't fought hard enough for her. He never gave her a choice or a chance. As soon as Theo told him that he was in love with her and was going to tell her as much, Draco took himself out of the equation, and now, like some twisted, jilted bastard, he sent Theo that note in the hope of breaking them up.

Draco was a coward on so many levels, and he was ashamed.

Draco reminisced to graduation day, to how he watched Theo talking to that group of graduates, and how he knew in his heart at that moment that Theo would mess things up for him and Hermione, and Draco truly felt that he hated him that day. He really did. They had just graduated, they had gone out to the grounds, Hermione forced them to take some pictures, and then Theo had to ruin it all.

How did Draco go from happy and hopeful one day, to sad and lonely the next? Was this the way the world balanced itself? Now that Theo had Hermione, was his depression gone? Was he happy now, and did that mean that Draco was now the one that had to be unhappy?

Looking back on graduation, he should have known it was be too good to be true. He should have known some unseen force of unhappiness would temper the elated feeling he possessed.

Before Hermione left that day to have dinner with her friends and her mum, she walked up to Draco and said, "I have a graduation present for you."

He smiled and said, "I love presents." He didn't have one for her. He was going to tell her he loved her that day, and that was the only thing on his mind.

"Close your eyes," she said.

He obliged, and he felt her hold his hand, and then place something in it. He opened his eyes and saw a small, plain box with a string ribbon around it. He removed the ribbon, opened the box, and there was a white gold watch, with his initials embossed on the face, along with a diamond for the number three, and an emerald for the number nine. On the back, she had his name engraved, along with the date of graduation. He looked down at the watch now. He never took it off. He rolled it around his wrist, and then looked at the time. It was now 2:44. Theo was late.

He recalled that after she gave him the watch, he kissed her. He kissed her lips softly, rejoicing in the billowy warmth of her mouth. He touched her cheek and said, "Meet me back here, at this bench, after your dinner with your mum and friends, at seven tonight. I have something very important to tell you."

All she did was smile and nod.

Draco never showed up. This was the bench were they were to meet. How ironic that Theo would want to meet Draco here now.

Theo had a present for Draco that day as well. He sat back and closed his eyes, and remembered it clearly as Theo said, "I have a surprise for you." They had just taken their pictures under the tree, and Draco looked from Hermione to Theo, as Hermione shrugged and placed her camera back in a little black bag.

"Okay, what?" Draco asked.

Theo pointed over Draco's shoulder with a slight nod to his head. Draco turned his head around and he saw Theo's mother standing by a tree, and then he noticed the woman standing next to her. It was his mother. He had barely spoken to her in four years. He had only seen her three times in those same four years, yet here she was, on his graduation day, and she was smiling.

"That's my present for you," Theo said.

He looked back at Theo, confused, and then he saw the bright smile on Hermione's face. She leaned over, placed her hand on his arm, and kissed his cheek. "I'm so happy for you that she's here. Go say hello to her."

Draco's heart felt ripped in two. He had missed his mother. He wanted to go talk to his mother, but he didn't want to waste one moment NOT talking to Hermione. He took her hand, held it tightly, and said, "After I see her, I really need to speak with you alone. Remember, I have something very important to tell you. Promise me that you'll meet me tonight." She agreed again, and he turned and walked toward his mother.

After a tentative hello and a stiff hug, she handed him an envelope. She said, "That's just a little something to tell you that I'm proud of your accomplishment."

"From you and Father?" he asked.

"From me, Son," she said. He understood.

He looked beyond the tree as Hermione was again talking to Potter and Weasley. He saw Theo speaking with Hermione's mum. He didn't know what else to say to his mother. He took her to the same empty bench, and they sat down. "How's father?"

"He's well," she said. "He's up for parole, you know. He's cooperated with the Ministry all these years, so they are thinking of granting him an early release," she said.

"Good for him," he said.

"Draco, you must learn to forgive him," she said.

"Mother, I don't want to talk about him, not today of all days," he said.

Therefore, they talked about the weather. It was his graduation day, he had barely spoken to her in years, and his mother talked to him about the weather. She asked him if he had a job lined up. He told her no. She told him that her graduation present should help him until he found a job. She asked a few other questions, and he answered them in the same clipped, automatic tones. Soon, he stood up and said, "Thank you for coming, Mother. I love you."

She seemed to want the reunion over as much as he did, for she stood, put on her best, plastic smile, and she walked away. He wasn't sad to see her go, but he was glad that she had come.

Theo walked over to the bench and said, "That was a short visit."

All Draco could utter was a resounding, "Yes it was."

"Hermione went on to her mum's house. I told her perhaps we would meet her there later." Theo explained. Draco took a deep breath in, glad that the day was over, but little did he know that not only was graduation over, but soon his life would feel as if it was over as well.

Because it was at that moment that the bomb detonated.

**END OF PART II**


	21. 21 Collide

All characters belong to JKR

**Part III:**

**Chapter 21: Collide:**

Draco knew that everything that had happened was partially his fault. The first time he was going to tell Hermione that he loved her, two years prior to graduation, he made the mistake of asking Theo how _he_ felt about Hermione, before telling the man how he himself felt about her. He should have told Hermione he loved her first, and then worried about Theo. The second time, at graduation, if Theo had been as good a friend to Draco as Draco was to Theo, Theo would have asked Draco how he felt about Hermione, but then again, Theo always was a selfish person. He had to know how Draco felt about Hermione. A blind person would have seen that he loved her. However, Theo didn't care. Theo never really cared about anyone but himself, and the irony was that he didn't even really care that much for himself. It was also an irony that Draco loved Theo more than Theo loved Theo. More than Theo loved Draco. Because it took a big man, with the capacity of great love, to give up what he loved for a friend.

And that was what Draco did. He did it the moment that Theo said, "As soon as we get to Hermione's house for the graduation party, I'm going to tell her that I love her."

A blinding, searing pain ripped through Draco's heart and shattered the fragile organ into an almost irreparable state. He couldn't even look up. In fact, he had to shut his eyes tight, and remind himself to breathe. His lungs felt on the verge of collapse. He finally looked at the man, who he thought was his best friend, and he said, "What?"

"I love her, Draco. I have for a long time. I need her. I feel empty without her. Sometimes I think she's the only good thing I have in my life, besides my friendship with you."

"But," Draco started, not able to continue. His look pleaded with his friend to understand. He was silently shouting to the other man, 'But she's mine! I love her! I have for a long time! I gave her up once for you and I will not do it again! You waited too long! You had your chance two years ago!' He said all these things, as well as curses, in his head. He dropped his gaze to the ground and said, "Why now?"

"I can't wait any longer. I have agreed to go to a special hospital. Hermione's idea really, and the one condition was that I would only go if she took me. I'm going to tell her on the way there," Theo said.

Draco stood up and said, "My god, you're good, I'll give you that."

Theo looked confused and he stood up as well. "What do you mean?"

"You are a master manipulator, just like your dear old dad. Oh, look, I'm sad, everyone do my bidding. Gee, I don't want to carry on with living if you don't do what I say. Well you know what, Theo? I'm sick of your up and downs. I'm sick of you not taking responsibility for your own happiness, and your own sorrow. You'll make that poor girl feel so guilty that she's liable to agree to anything. That's not love, Theo!"

"I love her, and I don't care what you think," Theo spat. "And if you think I want to feel the way I feel, then you are sorely mistaken. I would give my right arm to feel happiness again. I hate that all my days are dark and grey, and they bleed into other dark and grey days. And I don't care if you believe me or not, but I'm in love with her, and I want to get better, for her, Malfoy, for her!"

"You should want to get better for yourself!" Draco shouted. "Besides, she doesn't love you."

"I think she does," Theo said.

"She loves you, but she's not in love with you!" Draco shouted.

People began to stop and stare at the two men.

"We'll see," Theo said. "I'll let her know how I feel, and if she feels the same, then I'm going to ask her to marry me. I need this, Draco. I need something real to hold on to, because sometimes I feel like I'm a drowning man, with a lead weight around my neck, and I think she can save me."

"Don't put that off on her! That's not fair! You have to save yourself!" Draco turned from the man and then turned back just as suddenly and said, "Don't you dare make her think that she's your salvation!"

"Why not? You've told her that she was yours, so why can't I tell her the same?" he asked. Draco shook his head, not understanding, until Theo continued, "You told her that weeks ago, when you were sick. I heard you telling her that in your room. You told her that she was your salvation. Why can that be true for you, and not for me?"

Theo sat back down and hung his head. "Why can't you be happy for me? If I can't be happy, then at least you could be."

Draco could be happy if the other man would just step off the face of the earth! He shouted, "You aren't good enough for her! I may not be, either, but at least I recognize the fact! You go around all the time saying that you don't want to live, that you have nothing to live for, and that you're unhappy, well you know what, Nott? People make their own happiness! It's called freewill and everyone has it! If you don't want to be happy, then no one can force you to be happy!"

He tightened his hands into fists at his sides and bellowed, "Fine, you want her, go and tell her so! I'm done! I won't stand in your way! You gave me a graduation present; well this is mine to you! If you think she can make you happy, go be happy, but leave me the hell alone! If you want to tell her you love her, go do it! If she's the fool I think she is, she'll probably selflessly tell you that she loves you, too, and the two of you will be happy together, I'm sure. If you don't want her and instead you decide that you don't want to live, then go crawl in a hole somewhere and die! It's called freewill! "

He wasn't even sure why he was so angry with Theo. He _did know _why he was so angry with himself, because once again he was too late, just as he was too late that day at Hogwarts. He had saved her life, but still, in many ways he was too late. He was always too late.

He ran away, at a disarming speed, the sights and sounds of the people and places of the University flashed by him in a blur of colours and noise. He didn't meet Hermione that day. She had written to him, but he never read any of her letters, and he didn't answer any, either. He almost sent the photographs back to her when she sent them to him, but now he was glad that he didn't. He didn't tell anyone where he was. With the money his mother gave him for graduation, he bought a little one-room bungalow in a Muggle neighbourhood, and put a down payment on a black Porsche. Since Hermione didn't know he was in a Muggle neighbourhood, she had sent the pictures by Owl. He accepted them, but wrote her a note back telling her never to contact him again.

No explanation. She must have thought that he was a horrible person. She probably still thought that. Maybe he was a horrible person.

A month after graduation, Theo sent him a note that said, "I asked her to marry me and she said yes."

That was when Draco decided to be the bastard that he always knew he could be. He wrote a letter to Theo. In the letter, he told Theo everything about Hermione's attack at Hogwarts. He knew Hermione would never do it, and since she always expounded the positive properties of truthfulness, and getting things out in the open, he didn't feel the least bit guilty telling Theo the truth. Hell, if Theo had been truthful just once in his life, he would have remembered the whole thing himself.

Draco told Theo that his father was the one who had raped Hermione. He told Theo that he knew that he must remember that, down deep inside, because that had to be the only reason he ran away that day. He wrote that although Hermione might forgive him for it, Draco never would.

Yet here Draco sat, five months after graduation, after having agreed to meet the man he said he would never forgive. If he met him for no other reason, he at least wanted to know how Hermione was doing.

The wind blew harder. Draco looked back at his watch, the one from Hermione. It now read 2:51. Theo wasn't coming. The selfish git made Draco come all the way out here, in the cold and wind for nothing. Draco didn't give shite. Theo probably wanted to invite him to the wedding or something. He stood up and reached in his pocket for his keys. He was going home. He was going to wash his hands of Theo Nott for the last time. As he reached in his pocket for his keys the wind blew his hair in his eyes, and he didn't see as he ran right into someone. He dropped his keys. He reached for the person, his hands going to their upper arms instinctively, and he said, "Pardon."

Then he froze. The person bent down and picked up his keys. She handed them back to him. It was the last person he expected to see, and the only person he ever wanted to see.

It was Hermione.

She said, "I've come to tell you that Theo won't be meeting with you today. The note asking you to come was really from me. I was afraid you wouldn't see me if I asked to see you as myself, so I pretended that Theo wanted to see you."

He had yet to say a word beyond the word, 'pardon', and he was still too shell-shocked to speak. It didn't matter for she pressed on anyway. "I've been sitting in my car across the street, trying to get the courage to come over and speak with you, and when I saw that you were finally leaving, I knew I couldn't miss my chance. Please, will you talk to me? I know you must hate me, but I really want to see you."

"I don't hate you." Damn, it was time. It was bloody well time. He had to say it. He had nothing else to lose, because he felt he had already had lost it all. Keeping it to himself would serve no purpose. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Did they really just proclaim their love for one another? Was it that easy, painless, and simple? Draco knew he should be cautious, hesitant, but he rushed to her, placed his right hand behind her head, grasped her face with his left one, and he kissed her hard on the mouth. After a brief moment, he brought his face back to hers, and then thumbed a tear that journeyed down her face. The hand that held her neck came to her other cheek, and brushed away another tear.

"Why are you crying?"

"Because you love me," she explained.

"So it would seem." He smiled. "You love me, too."

"I have forever," she answered. She threw her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear, "I broke it off with Theo today." She pushed away from him, and let her fingertips graze his cheekbone. "I saw that you wrote to Theo, and I don't know why, but that letter gave me hope that you wanted to see him, that you might be receptive to seeing me. I was so afraid you would turn me away. Why didn't you meet me after graduation?"

He took her to the bench and told her everything. He explained to her what happened two years prior, the summer they fell in love. He explained to her what Theo told him on graduation. When he was done with explanations he said, "I'm so sorry. I should have told you all of that before now. Do you forgive me?"

"Yes."

"Do you think Theo will forgive me?" he asked.

"Perhaps, in time. He has no reason to hate you. I broke up with him because it was the right thing to do, not because of you. I wasn't in love with him. I only agreed to marry him because he agreed to get help, but he's worse than ever, and he doesn't seem to think he needs help. It may make me a selfish person, but I can't exist only to help him. I have to have my own life."

"But what did he say when he read the letter?" he asked.

She shook her head, not understanding. "I don't know. I don't know if he read it yet. I arranged to meet you here, and then I told him that I was meeting you and that I was going to tell you that I loved you. I don't even know if he read the letter, although I am sure he probably did. What did it say?"

He was astounded. What did it say? She wanted to know what it said. "You said you saw it. You mean you didn't read it?"

"It wasn't addressed to me."

He shut his eyes, and knew that once again he had screwed up. What should have been the happiest day of his life…the day he finally told her that he loved her, was marred by the fact that he hurt his best friend of over twenty years, and it wasn't even necessary. All he had to do was to tell Hermione he loved her, and she would have been his. He didn't have to ruin Theo's life in the process.

Should he tell Hermione what he wrote, or should he keep it a secret? He didn't want to lose her, and if he told her the truth, he might. Therefore, he didn't. He wouldn't tell her. He brought her up against his body, and settled his mouth upon hers. His lips teased hers, until they opened, and then the tip of his tongue sought the warmth and reassurance of a deep, meaningful kiss. She bunched the front of his jacket into her fists and surrendered her need with his want, parting her mouth so that he could further enjoy its wet heat.

He shifted her slightly in his arms, so that his angled hips leaned against her belly, and he lifted his mouth from hers and said, "I want to make love to you."

"I don't know what to do," she said, her face red with a hint of blush. "I'm not very good at these things." She looked down.

He wanted to make a joke, but this moment was too holy, too special, so to relay her fear, he wrapped her inside his coat, his arms trapping her body in his hold, and he said, "You know I love you. I won't hurt you. I just want to show you _how much_ I love you."

"It's just that, besides what happened at Hogwarts, I've never had sex before," she blurted out. She felt embarrassed.

"That wasn't sex," he stated. It was something sinister, and dark, and _unholy_, but it wasn't sex. He asked, "What about you and Theo?"

She shook her head no.

"It doesn't matter," he said, holding her close, his lips in her hair. "We won't be having sex. We'll be making love."

She pushed away and he couldn't help but smile. She bit her lip and found that she had nothing to say. "I'm glad you came today," she finally said.

"I'm glad you came," he said back. He started walking, with his arm tightly around her shoulder, and he said, "Can we go to my house?"

"I'd rather go to my flat," she answered.

"Does Theo live there with you?" It occurred to him that he knew very little of them as of late.

"No." She headed toward her car, his hand in hers. She turned to him and said, "One more thing, what was in the letter you sent to Theo?"


	22. 22 Remember

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 22: Remember –****  
**  
Theo clutched Draco's letter and struggled for a deep breath. No. The letter was a lie. He would remember something that terrible, or else Hermione would have mentioned it to him. After all, they were engaged to be married. He loved her. She loved him. She would have told him if all of these things were true.

Why would Malfoy tell him such terrible lies?

He wanted Hermione for himself, that's why. As soon as Hermione got home from work, he would ask her. He sat in her living room to wait.

She walked in her apartment, threw her keys on the table, and then stopped cold in her tracks. She looked at him on the couch and said, "Theo, what's wrong? You look like someone died."

He wanted to ask her about Draco's lies. He wanted to ask her about the letter. Instead he said, "Why do you want to marry me?"

She bit her bottom lip. She walked up to the couch, sat down, and took his hand in hers. She leaned over at the waist and kissed his hand. She stayed bent partially over his body and kept her cheek on his knee. She said. "What's wrong? Is that Draco's letter, the one you told me you received two days ago? I thought you weren't going to read it." She sat back up, looked at him intently, and asked, "What did it say? Why are you so upset?"

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you, Hermione?"

"No, never," she said.

"Never?"

She closed her eyes for the briefest of moments and then said, "Please, tell me what's wrong."

"Why did you agree to marry me?" he asked.

When she didn't answer right away, he had his answer. He stood up, letter in hand, and said, "You don't want to marry me, do you?"

"Theo, I want you to get help," she answered. She stood up beside him and said, "You promised me that after school you would get help."

He dropped the letter and shook her shoulders. "FOR ONCE TELL ME THE TRUTH!" he shouted.

"Fine," she said, defeated. "I agreed to marry you because I thought that would make you finally see that you needed help. I was afraid to tell you no. I don't love you that way, Theo, but I love you as a friend. One of my best friends, and if something happened to you, I would just die inside."

"You should hate me, you know," he said reflectively. He looked at the letter lying open on the floor. He knew in that instant, it was the truth, but why didn't he remember? He picked the letter up, folded it, and stuffed it in his pocket. He said, "I don't want you to marry me if you aren't in love with me. You love him, don't you?"

She nodded. "I wrote him, you know, after you received that letter two days ago. I wrote him that you wanted to meet with him. I don't know if he'll show up, but I intend to go there in your place. I have to find out why he left me."

Theo shook his head in disgust. He was disgusted with himself. He said, "He didn't leave you. I took you away. You go meet him, Hermione."

"When I get back tonight, I want you and me to go to that hospital finally. Will you agree to go?"

"Whatever you want," he said, placating her, but not meaning a word. Instead, he was going to try to find a way to remember, because if Malfoy's letter was true, he didn't think he could live with the pain or guilt. He didn't think he would ever be able to look at Hermione Granger again.

He let her go and he sat down on the couch and read the letter one more time.

* * *

_Theo,_

_I'm sure you're surprised to hear from me since I haven't spoken to you in months. I will forgo with the niceties such as, 'How are you doing,' and instead I will get straight to the very reason I am writing you this letter._

_Five years ago, give or take a few months, my life changed forever. Five years ago, Hermione Granger's life changed forever. Five years ago, your life changed forever. The only difference in all of these life changing occurrences is that while they all happened on the same day, and at the same moment, only Hermione and I seem to remember it happening. Either you're in denial, or you really don't recall, so that's why I'm writing. It is time for you to remember._

_The final battle of Hogwarts was one of the scariest moments of my life. We were both working with Death Eaters, too afraid to refuse, too loyal to our parents. We knew that the end was near. We both knew our parents were somewhere on the grounds, and that Potter and Voldemort were soon to have a showdown to rival all showdowns. __You and I had just decided that we were going to try to sneak out of the dungeons to go to the forest, and that no matter what occurred we were going to find our parents. After all, we were just children. We tried to leave by one entrance, to find it guarded by fellow students. We snuck to another, to find it guarded as well. Then we went back toward the dungeons, our intention was to find the stairs near the Hufflepuff dungeons, near the kitchens, and to sneak out that way._

_Fate had other plans._

_We ran down a hallway and that was when we saw them. WE SAW THEM, Theo. Not just me, but you saw them, too. Three Death Eaters had a young girl in the corner, by the dorms. She was on the floor, begging for her life. Two of the men stood above her, laughing, calling her names like, "Mudblood" and "Tainted Bitch". __I wanted to leave. I pulled on your sleeve and said, "Come on, let's get out of here." I knew it was Hermione Granger. I'm ashamed of the fact that I wanted to leave, but I did. However, you said, "No, we have to help her." As soon as you said that, the third man stood up, straightened his robes, and said, "That's right, Mudblood, beg for your life."_

_I know you remember that, Theo. How could you not? It was a wonder that we weren't discovered. We were close enough. The wall hid us partially, as the one hallway led to the other. I looked at you and you looked at me, and I know you knew in the instant that you heard the man's voice that it was he. I knew, so you had to know._

_It was your father, Theo. You father raped Hermione Granger, and would probably have killed her._

_I started down the hall, wand raised, and hand shaking in fear. I looked to my side, thinking that at least I had my friend by my side. You weren't there. You ran away. You left us. You left her, and you left me. Whether it was fear or embarrassment, I'll never know, because we've never discussed it, but you left me. _

_I didn't blame you. You were just a kid, too.__I had two choices at that moment. Turn and run away with you, or for the first time in my life, stay and fight.__While I considered my options, Hermione looked at me from her place on the floor. She was the only one to see me. Being the bigger person, the brave one, the shining light in a valley of darkness, she told me to run. __Instead, I stayed and fought. Without a second thought, I killed one of the Death Eaters as he began to disrobe. The other two looked at me, too shocked to know what to do. Hermione reached inside the robe of the dead man, and took out her own wand, which he must have taken from her earlier, and she killed one of the other men. That left Hermione, your father, and me._

_He walked toward me and I swear evil personified radiated from his whole being. He said, "Care to watch, or to join, young Malfoy? If you don't want to watch, perhaps you want to die." He pointed his wand right at my chest._

_Before I could do or say anything, Hermione sent a curse toward him. He fell over. I didn't find out until much later that he didn't die. I wished he had. It didn't matter, because thanks to my testimony, he was sent to prison for life, and I was given a full pardon.__When I approached Hermione, torn, tattered, beaten, and worn, I was at a loss of what to do. I had never had a kind word for her my whole life. I took off my robe, placed it over her body, and helped her stand. I rushed her down the hallway. I remember that she kept looking back toward the men as some lay dead on the floor, and one remained living but unmoving._

_At that moment, a feeling unknown to me before, rushed over me in a tide of emotions and I felt like I had been reborn. I knew from that moment my life would be different. Maybe not better, definitely not worse, but different._

_I walked with Hermione up to the Great Hall. Just outside the door, I realized I still had my arm around her. I let her go and started to walk down the hall. She called me back. "Draco?" She said my name for the first time in my memory. She had always been, "Granger" and I was always, "Malfoy," however on that day she called out my name, in the form of a question._

_Swallowing hard, I turned to face her._

_She said, "Thank you." _

_I said one thing in return. "You're welcome."__Then I left. I never found a way outside. I hid until the final battle was over and I would probably not change one iota of that day, except for one thing - I would have stopped you. I would have made you face your father. Because Theo, you ran away that day, and you have been running ever since, and it's time for you to stop. Stop running. Stop running from the memories, no matter how painful they are._

_After Hermione and I became friends, we found a way to discuss that day without pain and fear. She told me that it took her a long time to heal, but she did. She spent the year after the war in therapy. She found solace with others who went through similar atrocities, and she came out on the other side a changed, but stronger, person. She wants that for you, Theo. She's always wanted to talk to you about it, but she knew that you either really didn't remember things, or you were in denial. Whichever the case is, it is time to face the truth. Face it head on, so you can then come out healed._

_What other choices do you have? You can continue to deny the truth, and let the guilt of your actions, and the sins of your father, weigh you down until you drown in despair, or you can rise above it, face the consequences, and finally find peace.__You can bring that lovely girl down with you, or you can a let her go find the love and happiness she deserves, while looking for your own._

_I started this letter for one reason:, to hurt you, but I end it with a different intent. I really do want you to find peace and happiness. You see, Hermione changed me for the better, too, and I cannot just be a selfish bastard who wants to hurt you. I care for you too much. Find a way out of the deep hole you've dug for yourself, Theo. I'll help if I can. So will Hermione. You don't have to be alone, but neither do you have to take us down with you. We'll help you up, but I refuse to let you bring either of us down with you._

_Think about it.__I do love you as a friend. I always will, no matter what happens. _

_Draco_

* * *

The weird thing was that the memories didn't rush in like a tide after Theo read the letter. It wasn't as if he reread the letter, and then the memories came crashing down on him. No, that would be too poetic, something fictional and unreal. Instead, he started to cry, and as he cried, he saw glimpses of memories. He saw him and Malfoy running down the hall. He saw Hermione lying on the floor. However, for the life of him, he still couldn't see his father. What if Malfoy was lying? What if he was lying to try to steal Hermione from him? He had to find her and have her tell him if it was the truth.

If the things Malfoy wrote in that letter were true, and she had never once confronted him, then he wasn't sure what he would do. He didn't know if he would survive. He wouldn't want to.

He got in his car, and went to go to try to find her. If he couldn't find her, he would come back to her apartment and wait for her to return.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco drove with Hermione in her car to her apartment. Draco opened the passenger door of the car, stepped out on the pavement, and walked over to the driver's side. She seemed nervous. He knew he was nervous. He held her hand and helped her to stand from the car. He said, "We don't have to do anything but be together. That's enough for me. I just want to be with you."

He meant that, and she appreciated it.

She took his hand and led him into the entryway of her building. She led him down the hallway, to her door. She said, "This is my place."

"Nice," he said. He smiled. She fumbled with her keys. She dropped them. He reached down, picked them up for her, and unlocked her door.

They walked through the door and she said, "Home, sweet, home."


	23. 23 Too Much

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 23: Too Much –**

She still had his hand as she walked through the door. She placed her keys and purse on the bookshelf by the entry. She turned on a light, and shut the door. She walked over to the couch. His hand was still in hers the whole time. She was afraid to let him go. They stood before the couch. He looked at her, moved his hand to her face, and brushed his knuckles down her cheek. Then she smiled and he knew he would be lost to her forever.

He took off his coat and threw it on the floor. He unbuttoned the top bottom of her coat, and then asked, "Are you okay?"

A slight nod was her reply.

He shut his eyes for the briefest moments, willing himself to go slow, to savor every moment, to make sure he did nothing to lose her this time. He unbuttoned another button. She couldn't look him in the eye. His right hand went up to her face and forced her gaze upon his. He unbuttoned the third button, which was the last one that she had fastened. He slipped her coat off her shoulders, in exaggerated slowness. He wanted everything about this to go slow. They had an unspoken agreement after all. They proclaimed aloud their love for the other, their pledge, so to speak. Therefore, what was to come next was unspoken, but louder than a clanging gong.

He placed his arms around her, enveloping her in a tight embrace. He took a deep breath, and even though he couldn't pinpoint an exact smell, she still smelled sweeter than anything he had encountered in his whole 23 years. He wished he had thought this out, planned it, but he had no idea he would see her today. He had no idea he would ever see her again, yet circumstances brought them back together, and now he had to do things right.

He moved them to the sofa. He noticed that she had his shirtsleeve bunched tightly in her fist. Was it to keep him from leaving? On the other hand, it could be out of desperation, or fear. He took her hand from his sleeve, and cradled it in his own. He brought it to his face and kissed her open palm. He shut his eyes and kissed it again. "I've loved you for such a long time."

"I wish you had told me a long time ago, then," she said.

He looked back at her face. He wished he had, too. Draco Malfoy wasn't a sentimental man - not one for roses and sonnets, which was good, because he could only think of two things he wanted to say to her, and if he said only them he would sound redundant. However, he had to say them at least once, and then he would no longer have any regrets.

He cupped her face with his right hand, and moved his thumb back and forth across her bottom lip. "You're so beautiful, and I love you so much." He really had nothing else to say, except, "and I'll never hurt you in any way, shape or form."

"I know," she replied softly. Then she seemed to cringe. She said, "What if I'm not able to show you how much I love you. What if I want you to stop? Would you would end up hating me?"

"Probably," he said lightly. She expelled a small laugh, almost like a puff of air. He laughed as well and said, "I don't know what you want me to say to that." He sighed and leaned back, but brought her with him. She turned in his arms slightly so that she was angled toward him, and he found that he was once again touching her face. He touched her slowly, with just his index finger. He touched her eyes, her nose, her chin, her mouth. He was trying to memorize every freckle, every line, and every sweet feature of her face. He outlined her mouth twice before leaning toward her to kiss her. It dawned on him that they really had never shared many kisses, and yet here they were, about to make love. He thought that was odd, but somehow appropriate.

He lifted her onto his lap, but then angled himself so his back was against the sofa pillows, and she was lying in front of him. He began to touch her chin, and then her neck. He let his fingertip trail along her collarbone, and then back up to her ear. Once in her hair, he fanned it out with his whole hand, her hair threading through his fingers. Every so often, he would lean forward and kiss her, with light kisses, mostly on her mouth, sometimes across her cheek, or on her forehead, her eyebrows, and her nose. His hand went down to the plains of her abdomen, as he pulled on her bottom lip with his.

She realized she should be a more active participant, but she didn't know what to do, and everything he did just felt so nice. She pushed his head up from the crook of her neck and asked, "Do you want me to do anything?"

He laughed openly and said, "Only Hermione Granger would ask something like that."

She hit his arm and said, "I'm serious."

"I know you are."

"You know because of what happened to me that I'm not a virgin, but I don't know what I'm expected to do," she said quickly.

He placed his mouth over hers, kissed her long and hard, and said, "But my dear, sweet Granger, you are a virgin. Your virginity is something you give to someone. It's not something someone can take from you."

She looked at him for so long that she felt as if time stood still. Finally, she said, "I think that's not quite true, but it's very sweet of you to say, and I really do wish that I could give that to you."

He kissed her again, hesitantly. His hand went to her shirt, and he pulled up the hem, so that his hand could encounter skin. Her skin was warm. It was soft and warm, like he knew it would be. His lips were tepid on her body, as they trekked from her mouth to her neck. She wrapped her arms around him, grabbing frantically at his shoulders. She gripped him so hard that he thought she might cause bruising. Her arms shook and she shut her eyes.

He moved his hand slowly from her stomach to cup one breast, under her shirt. He felt the lace of her bra, and he played lightly with the fabric, all the while kissing her and telling her how beautiful she was, and how much he loved her.

She was taut with anticipation. She was one raw bundle of nerves and desire. She almost felt this was wrong, but only for a moment. She had broken up with Theo. Draco had said that he loved her. She wasn't doing anything wrong. She had to get the thought that this was wrong out of her mind.

This was right.

The more he kissed her, and murmured to her, the more relaxed she became. Finally, when he moved partially on top of her, his thigh between her legs, she was so relaxed that she couldn't protest, even when he pulled her shirt over her head. He followed with his own, and kissed her above the lace bra, on her shoulders, and even on her stomach. She was no longer relaxed. She was breathing so hard he thought she might hyperventilate. He kissed her firmly and extensively on the mouth again. He tried to will her to calm down by his kiss.

Instead, it had the opposite reaction, and she was only becoming more nervous and anxious. He felt her heartbeat as he kissed her chest. He moved her bra straps down her shoulders, as his lips grazed her body softer than a downy feather. Her breathing was now coming out in shallow little bursts, and he knew he had to move her to the bedroom, and soon.

He sat up, which forced her to sit up, too. He stood and took her hand. He started down a little hall, then said, "Where's your bedroom?" She walked in front of him, opened her bedroom door, and pulled him inside. They left the door open, and headed right for the bed.

She sat on the bed, as he removed his shoes and socks. She took off only one shoe, and one sock, and then she stopped. He stood her up, reached behind her, and unclasped her bra. She placed her hand in front to hold it in place. He turned her around and began to kiss her shoulders and back. She let the bra slip from her hands. He got down on his knees, as if in prayer, and kissed the small of her back. He turned her around again, to face him. She held her arms over her chest. He kissed her stomach and then looked up at her, held her stare, and he removed her last shoe and sock.

He stood back up, continued to look at her, her eyes asking questions, his trying to answer. He removed his slacks, but kept the last barrier, his shorts, on his body, and then he reached for the waistband of her jeans. He unbuttoned the button and she looked away. Their connection broken for only a moment, a hitch caught in her throat. He pulled her into his arms, and she wrapped her arms around his waist. Her bare breasts were soft against his body. He whispered in her ear, "We can stop." He actually wasn't sure he could stop, but he would if she asked him to, even though it would be difficult.

"I don't want to stop, I want to continue," she said into his chest. He eased her back to the bed, his body still covering hers. She sat down and then lay back on her own. She removed one arm from in front of her breasts, then the other. This time, she dare not look away. He tried hard to look only in her eyes, but seriously, he had waited so long - he couldn't help but look at her bare breasts. When he did, he caught up in emotion and he felt lightheaded.

He lowered himself on the bed as she wiggled out of her jeans by herself. She kept her last piece of clothing, blue lace knickers, on as well. He sat up beside her and took one of her hands. He kissed it, and examined each part of it with his tongue, dipping it between her fingers, kissing the knuckles, the palm, the tips of her fingers, her pulse. He let that hand fall to her side and did the same with the other hand. She had never felt anything so erotic in her life, and he was only kissing her hands.

He paid the same intense attention to every part of her body. He paid homage to the inside of each arm, each knee, her thighs, but he didn't yet touch or kiss her breasts. He would save that for when she was less afraid. Each kiss and lick shot waves of intense heat to her belly and beyond. She never thought making love could be so nice.

She started to tremble, her hands still at her sides, still not quite participating, and embarrassed by the fact, she pushed him on his back. At first, he seemed surprised, then he smiled and almost laughed, but when she began to kiss and worship his body, he knew he had his wish fulfilled.

After she had shown him the same reverence that he had shown her, she went rolled to her back to invite him for more. He leaned over and flicked his tongue lightly over one nipple; her arms went tightly over his shoulders, and for the first time she made a sound, and that sound signaled the fact that he should go further. That sound meant that he could no longer think straight. She felt the wisp of her lacey knickers moving down her legs, knowing that he was the one moving them, and she no longer cared.

He looked up at her face as he removed his own underwear as her hands covered her face. He kissed his way up her body, and once he was to her face, he removed her hands and grinned. "I'm naked," she said when he looked upon her face with amusement.

"You don't say? So am I," he said back. She started to laugh and he feigned hurt and said, "I'm not sure women usually laugh at this part."

"Oh lord, Malfoy, just get on with it." She grinned. His large hand went lightly down her face, to her neck, and shoulder. It stopped for a moment at her breasts, and then traveled lower. When he reached his destination, he did nothing for a moment but leave his hand in place, unmoving.

Then he kissed her as he began to move his hand. They were both gone by that time. Something unspoken once again passed between them, and she cried out as a wave went through her body, her back arched off the bed, and her one hand went over her head and the other clasped her own mouth. His mouth went back to her breasts, pulling and sucking on one nipple and she almost wanted him to stop. She wasn't sure she could continue, because the pleasure she felt was bordering on ache, not ache that was borne from pain, but ache that was borne from need, and she didn't know what she was supposed to do with that feeling.

Instead of thinking about it, she decided just to feel. Her hips lifted again, she stood on the precipice, and he took her over the edge, with nothing more than his mouth on her breasts and his hand down below. She felt as if she was weightless, and floating on an ocean, made up of an array of different coloured stars, and each star burst into millions of rays of light, which shattered in her brain when she came. She was aware of him moving on top of her, and entering her, supporting his weight by his arms. He told her she was beautiful again, and she told him that so was he. He said, "I love you," and she felt slightly off guard for what happened next, but it was a pleasant feeling, so the only thing she could say in response was his name. She called out his name, unable to say anything else.

Tears filled Theo's eyes as he ran from Hermione's apartment, Draco's letter still grasped in his hand. Everything came to him at once, all the memories, all the pain, cut through his heart like a million shards of glass. Seeing Draco and Hermione making love, an act that he had never even shared with her, and hearing her call Draco's name was the final act of irony, which drove him over the edge.

It was too much.


	24. 24 Pain Personified

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 24: Pain Personified –**

Hermione was blissfully happy. She felt she was happier than she had ever been in her life. She felt she was happier than she had a right to be. She couldn't wipe the smile from her face. She looked at her reflection in her bathroom mirror the next morning and she pointed at herself and said, "Stop grinning like an idiot!" Then she continued to grin. She twirled in place and jumped in the shower.

They had made love all night. Draco was so sweet and tender. In the middle of the night, she lay beside him, staring at him, he opened his eyes and she hurried to shut hers. He said, "I caught you staring."

"Oh hell," she said with a laugh. He reached over and stroked her face. He couldn't get enough of her. He had been touching her all night long, and he wanted nothing more than to touch her all the days of his life. He leaned over and kissed her mouth. What a sweet mouth. So full, wet, and wonderful. He leaned back on the pillow and she leaned forward and kissed him.

And so it went. For the next two hours, until the sun rose, they touched, kissed, and talked. They made plans. She was going to move in with him. He had his own house. He wanted to continue with his education. So did Hermione. They would work, live, and be happy.

They would talk to Theo together. She cried a bit when they spoke of Theo. He held her, stroked her hair, and told her that Theo would understand, not really knowing if that was true. He thought of how he believed he would never forgive Theo, but then realized that when he wrote the letter to him, that he had. Now, it was time to show Theo a little faith, and hope for that in time, Theo could and would forgive him. Forgive them both.

Hermione held Draco's hand to her heart. She shut her eyes and sighed. "I hope he doesn't hate us."

"Theo doesn't hate," Draco stated.

"Yes he does. He hates himself, so much sometimes," Hermione said. "What was in the letter you wrote him? Please tell me."

He didn't know if he could. All he said was, "I just told him some truths. It's time he faced the truth. It's time he remembered some things. Maybe it'll help him in the end."

"I hope so. I don't want to hurt him. I still love him, you know." She spoke so softly, he could barely hear her. Her head was on his chest. He kissed her hair.

"I love him, too."

Draco had to go home early, because he had to work. He had promised to meet her later for lunch. They had both decided that they would tell Theo about their relationship tonight. They were also going to beg him to get some help, and if he refused, they would force him. That part was Draco's idea. Hermione didn't think someone could force another person to get help if they didn't want help. She knew that her mother had tried everything with her father. She had begged, pleaded, threatened, cajoled, coerced, lied, left him, came back, everything under the sun. Hermione had already used an arsenal of things on Theo, even agreeing to marry him, and still he hadn't wanted help. He didn't think he needed help.

Perhaps this time would be different.

She dressed and ate a muffin, and then as she opened her door to go to work, she saw two Muggle police officers.

"Are you Hermione Granger?"

"Yes."

"Do you know a man by the name of Theodore Nott?"

"Yes."

"We're so sorry to tell you this…"

Her sudden happiness came crashing down around her. She fell to the ground and screamed. She asked them what happened. They told her that he died in a car crash. They said there was no skid marks, no signs that he tried to brake. They apologized and told her it appeared that he meant to run off the side of the road, and down into the ravine below. They said it appeared he accelerated as he came to the bend, instead of slowing down. He killed himself. The younger officer helped her to her couch. He handed her a letter. It had blood on it. At first, she wondered if it was the letter that Draco had written to Theo. She wondered if it was so horrible that it caused him to kill himself.

A closer look revealed that it was written by Theo, and addressed to her. One of the officers told her that they had already read it, and they would need to take it back for evidence, but that she may read it first.

She did. After she read it, she understood. She understood why he killed himself. She knew it was her fault. He told her that he was sorry, and that he would never forgive himself for what his father did to her. He said that he knew she must hate him. He said that he deserved to die, for the sins of his father. When she came to the last line, she understood why he wanted to die, because that very last line even broke her will to live. He wrote, "I saw you with Malfoy last night. I know I hurt you, Hermione, but know this, you literally broke my heart. I don't know if I can forgive you, either."

She clutched the letter, rocked back and forth, and cried. The police had a social worker come to talk to her. She didn't say a word to the man. She just cried. They found her mother's number, and called her. She came, but was beside herself as to what to do for her daughter. By the time her mother came, the police had left. So did the 'evidence' of her sins. She would never tell anyone that she was the reason Theo died. She wouldn't vilify him that way, nor did she want anyone to know what a horrible person she was. She told her mother that Theo died in a car accident, because that part was the truth, just not the whole truth.

Her mother called Harry Potter, who was an Auror. He came right away. Hermione cried for an hour on Harry's shoulder, and then she asked Harry if she could use his mobile phone. She didn't want to use her own, because she didn't want Draco to have her number, but she knew she had to call him. She took Harry's mobile, and went into her bathroom, shut the door, and called Draco.

"Draco, it's Hermione," she said. "I have terrible news. Theo had a fatal car crash. He's dead, Draco. He's dead."

Then she hung up, not waiting for his response. She knew what she had to do. She walked from the bathroom, handed Harry her phone, locked herself in her bedroom, packed a bag, and vowed that she would leave everyone and everything she loved behind, because her love was poison. She could not live with the regrets. She could never tell Draco the truth. She would not have him feel the pain and the remorse and the guilt that she felt. She loved him too much for that. There was no way she could ever face Theo's mother, or even her own. She heard her mother in the other room there talking to Harry. They all still believed she was engaged to the man. They felt sorry for her. They should be blaming her, not feeling sorry for her! How could she tell them different? How could she say, "No, don't feel sorry for me, people! I broke his heart, slept with his best friend, and then he found out that his father raped me, and when it all became too much for him to abide, he killed himself."

Life was a bitch, full of irony and despair. She would take all the blame herself, tuck it deep inside her, and never tell another living soul what occurred. She took one last look around her bedroom. Her heart ached. She almost had second thoughts, but then she heard Draco's voice out in her living room. She heard him ask her mother where she was. Her mum told him that she was resting in the bedroom.

Hermione placed her hand over her mouth to stifle a cry, and then disapparated away.

That was the last time Draco saw her, until that day he found her to tell her that her mother was dead.

Life went on without her, but it was an empty life. He became an Auror. It only took him two years. He worked hard, because he had nothing else in his life. He had no friends, no girlfriends, no outside hobbies or activities. He talked to his mother about once a month. He talked to her mother about the same. He could have found her. It would have been easy. Her mother knew where she lived, and so did Potter. But if she didn't want him, then he didn't want her. He understood her pain, because he shared it. He almost wished he could hate her, but he could never hate her. He knew that the moment they finally made love. He would love her forever, no matter what.

The moment he told her that her mother died, all he wanted was to pick her up and run away with her. He wanted to protect her from everyone and everything. He wanted to shield her from any more pain. He just didn't know how.

He was having one of his infrequent phone calls with her mother one night when she said, "I got a letter from Hermione, Draco. She wants to come home. She wants to reenter everyone's life. She said she knows she's been away too long. She's coming tomorrow. She's going to stay for the holidays. Isn't that wonderful?"

His heart was so full he didn't know what to think or feel. He wanted to punish her for leaving him, but mostly, he just wanted to love her again. When he heard she was coming home, he lowered the wards that he had placed on her mother's home, so that she could enter.

He had arranged with her mother to meet with them the next day. Have dinner together. That would have been nice, but it never happened.

**End of Part III**


	25. 25 Trying to Understand

All characters belong to JKR

**Part IV:**

**Chapter 25: Trying to Understand:**

Draco and Hermione were in his car, discussing Heaven and Hell, which in and of itself was a surreal discussion to begin with, when Draco asked Hermione if she thought Theo was in Heaven, since she had just proclaimed it a real place. Her answer: for a long time, she didn't think so, and now she wasn't sure.

"Why would you think that he wouldn't be in heaven? He was a good man," he asked.

"Just something I overhead a friend of my mother's say once after my father died," she answered. "She said that when someone killed themselves, they didn't go to heaven."

"Why would she say that?" he wondered, "And what does that have to do with Theo?" She let go of his hand. He said, "What do you mean, Hermione?"

"Just that Theo died like my father died, by his own hand," she said softly.

Those words swirled around in his mind. Theo died of a car accident. Hermione knew that, because those were the very last words she spoke to him, until this week. She called him that day, he remembered that he smiled at the sound of her voice on the phone, just remembering the night they had shared, but his smile vanished the moment that she told him that Theo had a fatal car crash. That was all she said. He went right over to her flat, was told she was resting, and when Potter went to check on her an hour later, she was gone and Draco didn't see her again for three years.

What did she mean by that? Theo didn't kill himself. He died in a stupid accident. He looked at her confused, and then turned away. He shook his head, and then he looked at her once more. She turned to look at him, with tears in her eyes, and all he thought was that her pain went deeper than he ever imagined, and that someone must have lied to him about Theo's death, and it had to be her.

He continued to think about what she had said the whole ride home from the University.

When they got home, Draco stopped the car in front of the house. When Hermione started to open the passenger door to leave, he reached over and held the door handle. He said, "Before you make your escape, kindly explain to me what you meant when you said that Theo died by his own hand."

She knew that the silence that had ensued after she had said that didn't mean that Draco hadn't heard. It didn't mean that he was going to ignore the fact that she said it. All it meant was that he was thinking about things, ruminating all the words around in his head. She knew she shouldn't have said it the moment it left her mouth, but by all that was holy; she was so tired of hiding things. She was tired of trying to protect Draco and his feelings, and Theo's reputation. She was tired of being alone and lonely. She turned her face away from him and placed her hand on his arm as it was in front of her body. "Please let me open the door."

"No, not this time, there's no running away this time. You have to tell me what you meant," he demanded. He let go of the door handle and twisted his arm so that his hand was now holding her arm. She was so surprised by the action that she turned to look at him. She tried to wrench her arm from his, but he was too strong, too determined to hold onto her. Unknown to her, he had no plans to ever let her go again.

"Draco," she said. "I didn't mean anything. I didn't. I don't even know why I said that. He died in a car accident. You know that. I just wanted to blame him, that way I don't have to feel guilty."

"Why would you feel guilty?" he asked.

She took a deep, long breath. She was making things worse. "Let me go!" She sounded desperate. He let go of her arm, but then he held onto the sleeve of her coat. He opened his car door and jerked her so that she had to come out of the door on his side of the car. It was awkward, and he practically dragged her across the seats, and over the gearshift. He started up the walk with her sleeve still tightly in his hand, and she pointed toward the car. "What about my things?"

"Why do you care about the things from your office? You told me to get rid of all the things that Potter salvaged from your house, so why care about some musky old books and things. Let them rot. I don't care." He was angry and not sure why. No, that was a lie. He knew why. He was angry with HER! He was angry that she apparently had kept things from him. He was angry that she had left him for three years, and there was never any reason for her to leave, even if Theo did kill himself.

Draco opened the back door and pushed her into the house. Her foot became tangled in the doormat and she tripped and fell. He reached for her hand, to help her up, but she slapped it away. 'Fine, stay on the floor,' he thought. He felt frustrated, and he wanted to hit the wall. Therefore, he did. He hit the wall, and probably broke his hand. He stepped over her and said, "Get up, Hermione." He went into the bedroom and slammed the door.

What had he become? More importantly, what had become of them?

He paced in front of his bed for ten minutes. He didn't want to have all of these feelings again! He had been fine these past three years without her. How dare she come back in his life, make him feel again, make him remember, make him love her, and then pull some stupid crap about Theo killing himself! He threw all the covers off his bed. He was still so angry that he couldn't see straight, but he came to recognize that he wasn't angry with her, and he wasn't angry with himself. He was angry, once again, with Theo, because somehow he knew that she was telling the truth. The stupid bastard killed himself, and in the process, almost killed the rest of them. He counted to three, slowly, and then opened the bedroom door. His anger had not abated, not one bit, but he had to make sure she was okay. If nothing else, she still came first.

He expected to find her still on the kitchen floor for some reason. He should have known better. She wasn't a damn rug, for Merlin's sake, even if she did allow people to walk all over her. Having such unsolicited thoughts about her made him only feel worse, if possible. He walked toward the living room, only to turn back around when he noticed that the back door was opened. Damn her.

He walked out the door, cradling his broken hand, and looked through the falling snow for her. She came walking back up toward the house, her boxes in her hands. She shouldered past him, walked in the house, and threw the boxes on the floor. He stood in the doorway, partially outside, and said, "You shouldn't leave the house alone."

"I walked to the car, I hardly think I made a trek through the Andes by myself," she said.

"What?" he asked. "Never mind. Heal my hand." She glared at him. He rolled his eyes. "Please, heal my hand."

"I don't think so. You should feel the pain. Lord knows I've felt it long enough. It's time for you to feel it," she mumbled, half under her breath. She was angry, too. She went to the icebox and got out a bottle of water. She opened it. She got it partially to her mouth when he knocked it away with his good hand.

"You think I don't feel pain? I have felt pain every minute of everyday since you left me!" he yelled.

Suddenly, her eyes went from stern to soft. She brushed the water off the front of her shirt, took out her wand to clean the mess from the floor, and then approached him. She took his injured hand in her left hand, and touched his hand with her wand. She said a silent spell, with her eyes closed. After the pain left his hand, she continued to hold it. Her eyes were still shut. It was the perfect time - so he leaned over and kissed her lips.

Her eyes popped open; she dropped his hand, and said, "That should be all better." She would ignore the kiss for now. She reached for her lips, touching her fingers to them slightly, and then got another water from the icebox. With her back toward the room, and her body partially in the refrigerator, he walked up behind her. He leaned toward her, his warm breath on her neck. He reached his arm around her waist. She leaned against him. It was amazing how easily she fell back in love with him. It astounded her that she sought his comfort the way she did, especially since she had been avoiding it for years.

She said, "I know I've caused you a lot of pain. I'm sorry." She sighed and almost melted into his embrace.

"The pain you caused was unintentional, I'm sure," he said, his words partially muffled as he spoke against her neck. "I'll try to keep my anger at bay, but please, tell me what you know about Theo. It might even help with your mother's case."

She turned slowly, his arm still around her. She placed her head against his chest, and stated, "What happened to Theo has nothing to do with what happened to my mother."

He knew she could be right, but somehow, he felt it might. He put both arms around her, and kissed her cheek. He loved her so much. He said in her ear, "Tell me."

"Okay."


	26. 26 The Price of Telling the Truth

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 26: The Art of Telling the Truth:**

Draco sat at his desk at the Ministry of Magic; Three hours ago, Hermione Granger had told him everything she knew about the death of their friend, Theo Nott. She held nothing back. She didn't gloss over anything. She kept to the facts. She didn't speculate, or lay blame at anyone's feet.

Now he was the one that felt numb. He didn't know what to think. He left her at his house after she went to sleep on top of her bed, still fully clothed, and he came to the Ministry to look for the files on Theo's death. Since he was a Wizard, the Ministry also investigated his accident. After reading the file, he realized that the Aurors of the time came to the same conclusion: he caused his own death.

He leaned his head in one hand, and folded the folder. Harry Potter came walking in the office, looked at his watch, and then toward Draco. "What are you doing here at eleven o'clock at night?"

"Did you know?"

"Did I know what?" he asked.

Draco looked up. "Did you know that Theo killed himself?"

Harry looked down at the folder on the desk, and then back up. He walked up to the other man's desk. He looked back at the folder, now closed, in front of Draco. "I was an Auror at the time, and though I didn't investigate his death, I knew. Yes, I knew."

"Did you know about the note he left?" Draco asked steadily.

Harry gave a slight nod.

Draco rose. "Did you know that he saw Hermione and me in bed together?"

Two nods.

Draco picked up the folder and threw it at the other man's chest. Harry didn't even try to catch it, though he easily could have. He left it sprawled out; papers strewed everywhere, on the floor at his feet.

"Who's with Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Who cares?" Draco said. He sat back down.

Harry leaned forward, his hands in fists on the desk, holding up his body, and he repeated, "Who's with Hermione?"

"Weasel. She's sleeping anyway. She was so exhausted after she told me, from all the tears that she crawled right into bed, not even changing her clothing. She's fine," Draco concluded. Then he laughed. He looked up at the ceiling and laughed some more.

Harry pushed away from Draco's desk and stared at him. "What's so funny?"

"The fact that I said she was fine. She's not fine!" Draco shouted, between laughs. "She'll never be fine! Why didn't you tell me, Potter?"

"You weren't an Auror at that time, and you weren't privileged to that type of information," Harry spouted.

Draco ran over to the other side of the desk, and pulled out his wand. He held the collar of Harry's coat and pointed the wand under his chin. Harry remained calm. "NOT PRIVIDEGED TO THAT INFORMATION!" He was no longer laughing. "You knew that I was in love with her! She took all of this on herself! She took all the blame and no one tried to help her! I could have helped her!"

The young Auror named Timmons walked in the room and said, "Do you need help, Mr. Potter?" Harry was their immediate supervisor after all.

"I'm fine," Harry said evenly. Draco let him go. "No one could have helped her at the time. Don't you think I tried? Don't you think her mother tried? All that would have happened if you knew was that you would have taken the blame as well, and then where would everyone have been?"

"Together, Potter," Draco said, walking toward the door. He looked back once more. "We would have been together. We wouldn't have wasted three years of our lives apart. I wouldn't have let her leave, or I would have gone with her. Don't ever make decisions for another person again."

"Hermione made the decision to leave, I just respected it," Harry said to Draco's retreating figure as he left the room.

Without looking back at Harry, Draco responded with, "And I'm making the decision right now to bring her back for good, and I don't care who respects that decision."

Hermione woke up, disoriented. She had been here for over a week, and yet she was disoriented every time she woke up. She felt so tired that she wasn't sure she could even sit up, but she was aware that she was still in her clothes, and she wanted to dress for bed. She was slightly weary of going out toward the bathroom because she might see Draco, but she desperately had to go to the toilet. She opened the bedroom door, looked toward the living room, and saw the gentle glow of the television against the backdrop of the room. The sound was soft, but she knew he must be in there. She padded to the bathroom to change and use the toilet.

She slipped on the nightclothes that Draco had bought for her, wearing them for the first time, because for the first time felt strong enough to do so. She knew that wouldn't make sense to anyone but her, but it was the truth. Each day she was here, and each day she peeled away the façade and put to rest the lies, she felt better about herself.

She went to peer into the living. Instead of seeing Draco on the couch, as she expected, she saw a sleeping Ron Weasley. She walked over to him, placed a hand on his arm and said, "Wake up, Ron."

He opened his eyes. "What time is it?" he asked. She smiled down at him.

"I have no clue, but I think it's rather late." She looked around the room. She noticed that news was on the telly. She picked up the remote and turned the television off, which fixed the room in almost total darkness. Ron rubbed his eyes as Hermione walked over to the side table to turn on a light. "I'm going to have a snack, care to join me?" She didn't ask him what he was doing there. She didn't ask where Draco was. She just accepted everything as it was.

"I wouldn't mind food," Ron said with a laugh. She started to the kitchen, followed by Ron. She fixed them both sandwiches and poured them both some milk. They ate in silence. She glanced at the clock. It was after midnight. She took her empty glass and placed it in the sink. She was no longer tired.

"Ron?" she asked. She looked out the window over the sink. She only saw her own reflection.

"Yes, Hermione?" he answered as he placed his own empty glass beside her glass in the sink. He leaned his chin on her shoulder, put his arms around her waist, and he smiled at her reflection. She smiled back.

"Where did Draco go?"

"He left a couple of hours ago. He wanted to look up the file on Theo's death," he said truthfully. He saw no reason to lie. Draco had filled him in slightly.

She turned in his arms and said, "I know it's late, and what I'm about to ask you will be sort of a pain, but will you escort me out to the shed? I need to look through the boxes of things that were salvaged from my house."

"Now?" he asked, incredulously. "It's really late, sweetie. Can't it wait until tomorrow? I'm off work tomorrow, and I'll come over and help you, 'right?"

She gave him a weak smile. She nodded, three times. He stretched and said, "I'm heading back to the couch. I'm beat. Wake me when Malfoy gets back."

He walked back to the living room. She remained leaning against the sink, until she heard his snores in the other room. She really needed to look through her things tonight. She wasn't sure why, but she did. She had started the healing process, by peeling away the layers of deceit, so it was important to continue healing. She also wanted to go to her mum's house tomorrow. She was certain that all the things she left behind from her life before Theo's death, the things she left when she ran away, were probably stored there, and she wanted them back. She wanted to reclaim her things, thus reclaiming her life. She wanted to do it now, not tomorrow.

She walked over to the hook by the door where her and Draco's coats usually hung. She touched the spot where his coat should be. She slipped her coat on, and then slipped on a pair of boots, which had to be his, on her feet. She opened the back door slowly. She didn't know if the wards were up, and if anything would happen. When nothing happened, she slipped outside, sure to grab the keys to the shed before she slipped outside.

She padded through the snow slowly, the boots on her feet threatening to slide off with each step, and she went to the side of the shed to unlocked the door. Placing the keys in the pocket of her coat, she opened the door slowly. She didn't know where the light was, and she didn't bring her wand. She felt around on the wall by the door. She finally felt a switch. She turned on the light. There, in front of her, was her car. She cursed at herself, realizing she needed her car keys and aware that she not only didn't have them, but she didn't remember seeing them on the hook by the door. She was sure that Draco had put them there the other day. She turned to walk back out the door, resigned that she would have to wait until tomorrow.

Then the lights went out, leaving her in total darkness..

She gasped.

Someone grabbed her throat and pushed her against the car. They pushed her with such force that the air was knocked out of her lungs. A single hand was on her throat, squeezing, and her eyes watered. Her hands went to the hand at her neck, and her legs kicked out at her unknown attacker. All she thought was, "Draco."

Draco drove around the block five times. Five 'effing' times! He was avoiding going home. What if she was awake? What if she wanted to talk some more? He didn't want to talk. He wanted to figure things out in his head. He wanted to make sure he had a grasp of his emotions before he came home. He drove by his house again, and glanced fleetingly toward it, when he saw that the light was on in his shed. He frowned, and since he had already driven past the house, he would drive around the block once more, and then go see why the light was on inside the shed.

She struggled against the person who held her against the car. Their hands went from her neck to her shoulders, and the person practically picked her up and slammed her once more against the car door. Her back hit painfully against the door handle. She tried to scream, but a hand went to her mouth. 'NO, no, no!' she thought silently to herself. "NO!" she finally managed to scream when the person picked her up by the waist and tried to dragged her out the side door.

Draco pulled up to his house and parked the car. He opened the car door, and then he felt a chill, that wasn't due to the snow and cold. He felt a chill because he heard her scream. He heard her yell, "NO!"

He ran toward the house, assuming the scream came from within.

The person continued to drag her toward the door. She held onto the doorframe. It dawned on her that this was probably a wizard, even though they had yet to do magic. Draco's wards probably kept anyone but him, and probably her, from apparating or disapparating from the house or garage. That was the reason why the person was trying, in vain, to drag her outside. A cry stuck in her throat as she grabbed onto the door jam with both hands, her assailant continuing to pull her out the door.

The person picked her up by the waist, which threw her off guard. They rushed back in the building, which was enough to cause her to let go of the doorframe. They threw all of their weight, hers and theirs combined, toward the car again, her shoulder ramming painfully into the metal of the car.

Draco threw open his back door and ran into the house. He ran through the kitchen and lit all the lights with a simple flick of his wand. Weasley jerked up from the couch. "What's going on?"

"Hermione!" was all Draco said. He ran toward the bedroom, Weasley behind him. As he turned on the lights in the bedroom, and Ron turned on the ones in the bathroom, they both heard her scream again. It was a long, piercing scream. Without forethought, Draco ran back toward the back door, Ron right behind him.

The person had her shoulders in their hands, was sitting astride her, and was banging her head against the cement floor. She fought hard. There was only one other time she fought this hard, without magic, and it was the time she was raped. She fought that day with every fiber of her being, and so she did now. The person stopped banging her head against the ground, and instead started to squeeze her neck. The life was literally being squeezed out of her. She didn't want to die. She wanted to live, for herself, and for Draco. Her hands went up and clawed at the face of the person on top of her, because no matter who this person was, she wasn't going to let them kill her.

Then she heard her savior's call. She heard Draco shout, "HERMIONE!"

The weight left her body and the person ran out the side door. She turned to her side and struggled to breathe. It still felt as if the person's hands were around her neck.

Draco stormed in, lighting the lights, and saw her on the floor. He noticed right away that she was struggling to breathe. He rushed to her side, and placed his hand on her shoulder. Ron ran back outside to chase the dark figure they had seen running out of the garage.

Now Draco could barely breathe, because she could barely breathe. Because someone tried to kill her. Because he failed to protect her again. He sat down on the ground, pulled her body over to his lap, and cradled her in his arms. There was blood all over the back of her head, and she was crying hysterically, but due to her breathlessness, each cry came out as a silent hitch.

He held her, rocked her back and forth, and said the only thing he could say. He said the one sentence that he felt summed up everything he not only felt at the present, but also, he felt was due to her for such a long time and in so many ways. He exclaimed, "I'm so sorry."


	27. 27 Gentleness

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 27: Gentleness –**

Ron ran back into the garage, saw Draco and Hermione still on the ground, and said, "When he reached the edge of your property and the borders of your wards, he disapparated."

"Did you see who it was?" Draco asked, rocking Hermione back and forth in his arm. Ron thought it was eerie how quiet she had become.

"No, I couldn't tell. It was a tall man, but that's all I saw," Ron said.

"How did he get past my wards in the first place? I don't only have wards protecting the house, but outside. He shouldn't have been able to even enter the yard," Draco seethed, "And just how did he get past you, Weasley?" Draco began to stroke the side of Hermione's head.

Ron knelt down beside them and sighed, "I'm sorry. I don't know. I was sleeping, and I told Hermione not to leave the house. She asked me to get her something from the garage, and I told her I would do it tomorrow." He reached out and touched Hermione's shoulder. Draco turned her slightly, as if he was protecting her from Ron.

"Well you should have known she would sneak out. You should have gotten your lazy arse off the couch and gotten her whatever she wanted," Draco blamed.

"I'm sorry," Ron stated.

"YOU SHOULD BE!" Draco shouted.

"I am," Ron pleaded. He looked toward Hermione and said, "Believe me, Hermione, I am so sorry." Ron looked back toward Draco, and defended, "I really didn't think she would go outside by herself."

"WHY NOT? She's proven that being by herself is her forte! GET OUT OF HERE!" Draco pointed toward the door.

Hermione looked up and said, "Enough! Stop laying blame. It wasn't Ron's fault. It wasn't even mine. It wasn't yours for leaving tonight. Let's stop all the blaming; it's empty and useless, please." The world please came out as a strangled cry. Then her tears began to stream down her face once more.

Ron thought that she was finally exhibiting a normal reaction for almost being killed. Ron spoke again, "He's right, though, Hermione. I should've known you'd do whatever you wanted. I should have glued myself to your side. Do you need to go to Hospital?" Ron stood back up.

He reached for her hand, and helped her to stand as Draco struggled to stand. She said, "I'm fine. I won't go to St. Mungos." Draco placed his hands on her shoulders, examined the bruises on her neck, and then reached up to the back of her head. She winced in pain, and when he drew his hand back down, he felt warm liquid on his fingers. Blood.

Deciding he wouldn't press the matter, and that he would rather keep her at home anyway, Draco pulled her to his side. "One of us has to go make a report to Potter. He's on duty tonight," he challenged. He felt it was Ron's fault, no matter what Hermione said, and so he was the one who should have to explain why he messed up to Potter.

Understanding, Ron said, "I'll go right now." He took her hand and said, "I really am sorry. Shall I still come tomorrow and help you sort through your things?"

"No," Draco answered. "I'm here."

She looked up at Ron and said, "Its okay, Ron." Draco took her hand and led her inside as Ron left. He steered her toward the bedroom, but she said, "I need a hot bath. I hurt all over."

He ushered her to the bathroom instead. He sat her on the closed toilet seat and started the water in the tub. He didn't know how to proceed. Blast it all, he was going to help her. It was natural, and he shouldn't feel uncomfortable. Without question or explanation, as soon as the tub filled with hot water he turned off the faucets, walked over to the toilet, and started to pull her shirt over her head. She didn't question him, either. She put her arms in front of her breasts. He winced when he saw the pale pink and blue marks that were already forming on her neck.

He lifted her to stand, leaned forward, and looked behind her to her back. She had a nasty bruise in the beginning stages there as well. Blood had dripped from her head injury and had dried in splatters on her back and neck. His fingers went gently to her head, and felt the large knot that was there. His fingers gently went from her scalp to explore her neck. He touched the bruises and he felt as close to tears as he had ever felt. He never wanted her to feel pain again, physical or otherwise. He inhaled deeply, and brought his hands down her shoulders, to her waist, and he pulled down her pajama pants. He looked back at her face. Her arms went to her sides, as her eyes fell to the ground. He had a fleeting thought that she was baring more than just her body to him. She was baring her soul. He put his right hand under her chin, his thumb and index finger holding it captive, to force her to look in his eyes. He brought her toward him and kissed her lips with a gentleness that he didn't even know he possessed.

"The hot water will feel good against your tired muscles and bruises. I'll leave you now. Please, call me if you need anything else. I'll be outside in the hall." His hand went from her chin down to hold her hand. He couldn't help but glance at her nearly nude form. He felt the passion that he always felt for her, but compassion was a stronger emotion at that moment. He kept her hand in his as he started to walk away. He turned back because she grasped his hand harder and held it tighter.

"Please stay. I don't want to be alone," she said in a soft whisper. She never wanted to be alone again.

He could only agree with a slight nod to his head. She grabbed a towel, placed it in front of her, and slipped out of her knickers. She stepped lightly into the tub, her face away from him, and he stepped backwards. She lowered herself gingerly into the hot water, her back still to him. It dawned on him that she was thinner than he had ever known her to be. He could see the outlines of her spine and ribs as he stared at her back. She was still beautiful, and he still longed for her. He wanted her more than he ever remembered wanting her. He felt like banging his head against the wall, but instead, he stepped forward when she sat down in the water.

Sitting on the side of the tub, slightly behind her, looking over her shoulder, he took a large sponge and he washed her back, careful not to touch the bruise. Instead, when he rinsed off the soap, he squeezed the hot water from the sponge repeatedly over the contusion, the water streaming down her back, and over the bruise. He hoped against hope that it soothed her somehow.

She reached behind him and took the sponge from his hand. She began to wash her body, so he took a cup and rinsed her hair. He took a small dab of shampoo, rubbed his hands together, and placed both hands in her hair, massaging her scalp gently, careful not to touch the tender spot. She slumped over slightly. He began to rinse the shampoo from her hair, letting the water flow over her face and body. She raised her face mid rinse, the water covering her eyes and mouth. She felt she was receiving a baptism, the water washing away her sins, and she was being born again. She said, "Again."

He dipped the cup back in the water and again let the hot stream of water drip down her face, covering her eyes, nose and mouth, as well as her hair. He made a decision as he continued to rinse the shampoo from her hair. He was never letting her go. He realized the irony of that thought – after all, he had made that claim before, but this time he was determined. He wouldn't let anyone or anything take her from him, not some lunatic seeking revenge for an unknown transgression, not guilt, nor depression, and not her sense of nobility and self-sacrificing crap. Even fear wouldn't be strong enough to take her away.

From now on, everything he did that concerned her would be thought out and deliberate. She was a strong woman, he always felt like a weak man, and he was ashamed of that. If he had been the strong one, he would have found her the day she ran away and brought her back. He would never make a mistake like that again. Never.

He continued to pay reverence to her body. He leaned down and kissed her shoulder, the water droplets on her skin made his lips tingle. He stood up and bent down to pick up the towel. As he rose to stand, she had risen as well. He looked at her body, from her head down to her feet, as she stood in the rippling water. His gaze went slowly back up to her body and then he wrapped her in the towel. He helped her out of the tub. He patted her dry and he guided her to the bedroom. They continued in silence as he pulled down the covers and she went to lay down, nude, beneath the comfort of the blankets, the towel still around her body. He kicked off his shoes to lie beside her, and pulled the covers up over both of them. She turned so that her head was on his chest. He held her tightly.

"Are you cold?"

"No," she answered.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know."

"Shall I get you anything?"

"Just stay. That's all I need."

He was comforted when she finally fell asleep. He couldn't sleep if he tried. He crawled out of the bed and went to the kitchen. He grabbed a butterbeer from the icebox, wished it were something stronger, and sat down in the dark living room to think about all of the events of the last week. He had to make some sense of things. There had to be a connection somewhere with something. Her mother's death, the fire at her house, and now the attempt on her life, were definitely connected, but why did Draco's thoughts keep going back to Theo's suicide? Why did he feel certain, deep in his gut, that it was connected, too? His mobile phone rang. He couldn't find it at first. He wanted to answer it before it woke her so he looked around frantically for it. Finally, he found it in the pocket of his coat on the hook by the back door. He answered it and it was Harry.

"How is she?"

"Sleeping. She's fine."

"Listen, Ron feels horrible."

"He should."

"Yes, he should," Harry agreed. "I have a favour."

Draco huffed but then said, "What?"

"I don't mind that you took the file home tonight, but I need you to bring it back first thing tomorrow."

"What file?" Draco asked.

"Theo's file."

"I left it on the desk when I walked out." Draco paused for a moment and then said, "No, I didn't. I remember throwing it at you and leaving it on the floor/"

"And I picked it up," Harry added, "and put it back on your desk, and when I came back in the office an hour or so later it was gone."

"I don't have it," Draco said, slightly alarmed.

"Well, neither do I," Harry answered, also distressed.

"Potter, do you think what's going on with Hermione is related to Theo's death?" Draco asked.

Before Harry could answer, Hermione stood in the doorway, a blanket around her body, and she asked, "How could Theo's death have anything to do with what's happening to me?"


	28. 28 Shattered Glass

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 28: Shattered Glass:**

Her question still in the air, Harry still on the phone, and Draco still in a state of shock, she came to sit beside him on the couch. She let the blanket drop from around her shoulders, to reveal that she had put her pajamas back on, or rather the clothing he gave her to sleep in the first night. When Draco saw that she had put on the old nightclothes, he thought, 'One step forward, two steps back.'

"Draco?" she inquired.

"Hey, Potter, I've got to go," he said closing the phone.

"Is there a connection between Theo's suicide and what happened to me? Do you think that perhaps he didn't really kill himself? Do you think that whoever killed him is now trying to kill me?"

No, what he thought was that her question was ridiculous. What a farfetched theory. He said, "Theo definitely killed himself. The Aurors came to the same conclusion that the Muggle police did, so that thought never crossed my mind."

"Then why did you tell Harry that you thought there was a connection?" she asked.

"I didn't mean that there was a connection in the sense that you're thinking." He was grasping at straws. He wasn't sure there was a connection. He especially wasn't prepared to tell her about his assumption yet.

"What did you mean?" She stared at Draco and reached out for his arm. He stood abruptly and walked over toward the telly. He turned it on. He started to flip through the channels with the remote, his back to her. Maybe she would be able to tell that he was dismissing her. Maybe she would give up and go back to bed. Maybe pigs would fly.

"Draco Malfoy, what did you mean?"

He closed his eyes, and made a face, then flipped the television back off before he faced her. He answered, "Maybe someone is retaliating for Theo's suicide, and they blame you. Perhaps they saw the suicide note. I don't know. It's a stretch, but it's a possibility and something we should consider."

"But who would that be? He had no siblings, his father died in prison years ago, and when he became engaged to me, he became slightly more estranged from his mother, because she didn't approve. I believe the last time he saw her was at graduation, and then he died a few months later."

"I think Potter and I should have a talk with his mother," Draco concluded. He also thought that Potter should find out who stole that file, and right away.

"I barely knew his mother. I met her a total of five times over the years," she said.

"And she would have a motive – grieving mother, who wants revenge on the woman who wronged her son by breaking his heart and sleeping with his mate. Alternatively, she could be the avenging wife, making the person who sent her husband to prison pay. It makes a semblance of sense," he stated. He really hadn't even considered that until that moment.

"It was a man who attacked me," she said. "And the witness at my mother's murder was certain it was a wizard, not a witch, who killed her."

"Well, one could hardly expect her to soil her own hands," he concluded.

She stood up, dropped the blanket completely and ran her hands through her hair. She made a frustrated sound and said, "I swear, if someone killed my mother because of me, I will explode!" She kicked at the blanket at the floor and stomped through the living room to the kitchen. He was right on her heels. She seemed angrier than he had ever seen her. He was almost intrigued by her anger. It was a welcomed change.

She walked around the room aimlessly. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I hardly know!" she shouted. "I want to hit something, or someone, or destroy something, but this isn't my house, and so I can't! Thanks to my enemy, I don't even have a single thing to destroy that's my own! I can't destroy another person's house!" She turned to him, rushed up to stand in front of him, grabbed him by the shoulders and said, "I don't even have a house to destroy! Someone even took that away from me!"

"Break a glass or something," he said with a shrug. He didn't mean for it to come out flippantly. He was actually quite serious, but it came out wrong, and she seemed even angrier because of it.

"Break a glass? That's your freaking suggestion?" She pushed him aside and walked to his sink. He followed her slowly and stood by the table. She went to the cabinet above the sink, opened the door, grabbed a glass, and threw it toward him. He dodged it easily, and it crashed against the wall and shattered. "There's your broken glass, Malfoy!"

She reached inside and threw another. He actually felt that one graze his cheek as it flew by his face. He ducked instinctively and said, "Now that one was a bit close, Granger! I said one glass, anyway!"

"AARRGH!" she screamed. She pulled down another glass and let it crash on the floor by her feet. She reached for a fourth and threw it on the floor at the other side of her feet. She reached up for the fifth but he was already behind her, holding her arms to her sides, and keeping them in place. She was barefooted, and there was broken glass all around.

He held her tightly, standing behind her as he was. He kept her arms at her sides as she continued to struggle. She continued to make unintelligible grunts, groans, and moans. She struggled hard to get out of his grasp. He struggled just as hard to keep her still.

He let her turn around, so she was facing him. She fought until she was wrought with exhaustion. He moved them out of the way of the glass until they were standing in the corner of the kitchen. She finally stopped struggling and placed her head on his chest.

"It hurts, Draco. It really hurts," she said, pain lacing each word.

"That's good. You're starting to feel again," he surmised.

"I don't want to feel again, not if pain is borne from feeling, then I don't want to feel, because I don't want the pain. Make the pain go away," she cried.

He held her perhaps tighter than he had ever held another person, but then his hands suddenly went to her face, seized it tightly, and he practically put his nose to hers and said, "Pain if good. Pain is real. Pain is life! You have to feel pain to live. I won't let you hide away from your pain again! Pain brings other feelings. Don't you want to feel the other feelings, too? Like happiness and love?"

She didn't answer his question. She just said, "I don't want to feel again."

"Feeling is good. That's all I can say," he whispered in her ear. He removed his hands from her face and held them tightly around her body again. He could tell that she was so distressed that he was practically holding her upright. He said, "I just want you to remember, and feel again. I want you to love me again."

He didn't mean to say that last part. That sounded desperate. He felt as vulnerable as he was sure she felt. As much as he hadn't intended to say that, he was glad that he did because it was how he felt, and unlike her, he didn't hide his feeling away. They surrounded him like a gale-force wind, surrounding and drowning him. "You're exhausted. I'm exhausted. Let's just go to sleep. Come with me to the bedroom. We'll just sleep. We won't talk or fight, I promise."

She averted her gaze from his, pushed away with her hands, but with his arms once again around her waist, she didn't have far to go. She felt desperate, pathetic, and alone, and for far too long. If she let herself feel again, then grief would overwhelm her, consume her, and she had worked too long to stop feeling. With feelings came hopelessness, fear, worry and pain.

"I want to be alone," she said. It was her mantra. She had lived by those words for so long that she believed it, even though it wasn't true. She had fought hard for too long. She had weaned herself from her mother, her friends, her work, and the one man she had loved more than life itself. Being alone made her strong. It helped her to live. She had convinced herself that she never needed anyone ever again, and she wasn't sure she was ready to admit that it had all been a lie.

The joy she once felt in Draco's arms, and at the thought that he loved her, was short lived and forgotten. He said that he wanted her to love him again, but she didn't know how to do that. She looked at him again and repeated her mantra, without conviction this time. "Please, let me be alone. I want to be alone."

"I'm not sure you get to decide your future this time," he said seriously. "It concerns me too, and I'm not ready to be alone. I don't know about you, but I hate being alone. It scares me senseless. I can't let you go again. Call me selfish, or a bastard, or an old-fashioned romantic, but hell, Granger, I just said that I still love you, and all you can say is that you want to be alone. A small part of me, the part that still has pride, wants to throw those words in your face, and leave you alone to wallow in your loneliness. Don't let that small part of me win, Granger. Help me be the bigger man. Help me love you again."

He let go of her arms, and as he retreated from her, he said, "It doesn't matter at this point what you want. You can't leave. I hid your wand when you were sleeping, and I changed my wards. You're a prisoner here." He looked at her from the hall and said, "But then again, you've been a prison for such a long time, so that shouldn't matter to you. You can be a prisoner in your loneliness, or you can be a prison here. Be careful not to step on any glass. I don't want to clean up blood in the morning."

He went to the bedroom and threw himself on the bed.

Then he heard another glass crash to the ground. He winced. Good, she was still angry. Anger was a passionate emotion. He could live with anger. It was better than apathy. He heard a second one crash. That one made him smile. When he heard the third, he laughed aloud and yelled out, "Good luck stepping around that much glass, Granger!"


	29. 29 Feel Me

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 29: Feel me:**

He looked at the clock for the fourth time. It was after 3 am. Why didn't she come to bed? He heard her clean up all the broken glass at least an hour ago. He heard when she had turned the television on, because she had the sound way too loud, but that too stopped at least 45 minutes ago. Now there was nothing but silence. Perhaps she had fallen asleep on the couch. Perhaps he was lying here, waiting for her, anxious and fraught with fear, for nothing.

He turned from his side to his back, and that was when he saw the door open. He lay as still as he could when he felt her pull back the covers. She lay beside him, at the far edge of the bed. He turned to face her. She turned to face him.

"I feel like I'm dying inside," she said softly.

"You aren't dying," he said back, "You're just feeling.

"I don't want to feel," she said in such hushed tones that he struggled to hear.

Draco sighed, reached out in the dark, and grabbed her hand. He brought it to his mouth and kissed her fingertips. He said, "If you don't feel, you'll die. Feeling is living. Feeling is life. Feeling is believing. Feel me, Hermione. I feel you."

She pulled her hand from his and turned back to her back. He remained facing her. She said, "I'll never tell you some things."

"Okay," he said, confused. He hadn't asked her to tell him anything.

"I won't ever talk about the rape," she said in a clipped tone.

"Okay."

"So don't ask."

"I won't."

"I talked about that enough when my mother forced me into therapy after the war," she told him.

Silence ensued that statement, and it was uncomfortable. He made a mental note never to ask her about the rape. He never wanted to know the gory details anyway. It was already something he had nightmares about, so why would he want to know the specifics? He wouldn't. He didn't. He said, "May I hold your hand again?"

"No."

He thought, 'Okay, be a bitch.' He didn't say that part aloud. To her he said, "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," she said, recognizing that she had been harsh with him. She explained, "It's just that something was so familiar about what happened tonight. It reminded me of that day. Whether it was the primal fear, or the feeling of helplessness and terror, I don't know, but it seemed to so familiar. It felt like I was reliving that moment. I don't ever want to feel that way again. So I can't talk about tonight, because it reminds me of that night, so I request, respectfully, that you don't try to talk about my feelings regarding tonight."

"Fair enough," he said. He really did think it was fair. He had a feeling that she was on the verge of something, however unspecific, and that she needed to break through. He wondered if she would talk about another painful time. He would find out. He asked, "Tell me about your dad." He wasn't sure he wanted to know, but something told him that she wanted to talk about it.

She turned to look at him. "Sometimes, I wouldn't even want to go home because I didn't want to face the fact that my dad was sick. My mother had her own way of coping. She would work all the time. I had my own way of coping. I would pretend he wasn't there. Once I started Hogwarts, it was easier. I would spend holidays and summers with the Weasleys for the most part. I hardly ever went home. My mother didn't seem to mind, and I'm sure there were times my father wasn't as depressed, and he missed me, but he seemed to understand."

"When did his depression start?" he asked.

"When I was really little. His moods would change so quickly. One moment he would be swinging me on the swing in the back garden, or reading me a book, or teaching me to ride my bike, and the next day I would come home from school and he would be holed up in his room for days."

"My parents would fight about it at first. My mother thought he was drinking or something. She told him to get help or she would leave him. I used to pray that she would just do it…just take me far away from him. Then, I would feel guilty about it, because I would hear him crying in his bedroom. He was in pain, and I didn't know what to do to help him. I was a helpless child, and he was a helpless adult. Now that I'm older, I see the tragedy of it all."

"My mother started sleeping in the guestroom when I was nine. I understand that it must have been hard on her, but I think she should have tried harder. She should have had him committed or something. When I got older, I suggested that to her one time and she slapped my face. It was the only time she ever hit me my whole life, and we both stood there, staring at each other, shocked, and then I threw my arms around her and started to cry and I told her I was sorry. She started to cry too, and said that she was sorry as well."

"I blamed her for so much, but that was wrong of me. It's the same as blaming me for Theo's depression. It wasn't my fault, and it wasn't her fault, and it wasn't Dad's fault and it wasn't Theo's fault, but damn, Draco, whose fault was it?"

She placed both her hands over her face and started to cry. She rocked herself back and forth. "I have to blame someone! There has to be someone to blame."

Draco didn't have any words of wisdom to comfort her. She had already made a major breakthrough by realizing that it wasn't her fault. He had nothing else to add. He reached over, removed one of her hands from her face and placed it on his heart. He pulled her toward him so she could rest her head on his chest.

"Whose fault is it?" she asked.

"Harry Potter's?" Draco asked back.

Hermione laughed through her tears. She looked up at him and said, "What?"

"Well, I try to blame him for everything I can, whenever I can. It's been somewhat of my life's motto. When there's no one else to blame, blame Potter. It's worked well for me over the years," he said with a straight face.

"You're an utter nutter," she said.

"A what?"

"An utter nutter, Harry Potter - hating, lunatic," she said, sniffling. She placed her head back on his chest. "I think that I need to learn to forgive myself, and that's the hard part, Draco. I have to forgive myself for feeling guilty about ignoring my dad when he was ill. I have to forgive myself for lying about him to people. I even lied about how he died. I feel bad that I felt ashamed about him. I need to stop feeling bad about things. I need to forgive my mother, because she did the best she could. At least she didn't run away and hide, like I did, and most of all, I need to forgive Theo for killing himself."

"Eureka," Draco said.

"As in, I made a discovery?" she asked.

"Exactly, and you didn't even break a single glass to do it," he said.

"Just because I know what I need to do doesn't mean it'll be easy to do it," she deduced.

"I'll help," he said. "Every time you need help, I'll be a shoulder to lean on, an ear to listen, and I have tons of glasses to break, and I won't even charge you my usual professional fee."

"Ha," she laughed, "What's your usual fee?"

"A kiss."

"I might want to pay that," she answered.

"Then I'll amend my statement. I'll charge you for every minute of every day and every piece of sage advice I give," he said. She leaned over him, her hand on his bare chest, and she kissed his lips slowly, but surely, and much too fleeting for his liking, but he really hadn't given her much advice this time except to blame everything on Potter, so this time it was on the house. He would collect a better kiss the next time.

"May I ask you a favour?" she inquired.

"You can ask, I may not oblige," he said truthfully.

"Could we change sides of the bed, just for tonight? I know the first night I was here you told me that you slept on the right side of the bed, but so do I, and I think I would sleep better if we changed sides. Just for tonight, I promise," she requested.

He let out a little chuckle and said, "You may not believe this, but I usually sleep on the left side. I just said that the first night because I was annoyed at you," he admitted.

She frowned. "Why were you annoyed?"

"Truthfully?"

"Please."

"Because you were here. Because you were sad. Because you were crying. Because you had the audacity to ask to sleep in my bed, when that is the exact place where I imagined you for three years. It doesn't make a lot of sense, but that's how I felt." He was slightly embarrassed for admitting all of that.

"Oh," she said back. He stood up and moved to the other side of the bed.

"Move over, you're on my side," he said. She moved over to the right side of the bed. He lay down in her previous place, the bed warm from her body. When he turned to look at her, he sighed. "I'm sorry I was so blunt before. I blamed you for being here, even though here was exactly where I hoped you would be almost every night while you were gone. Crazy, huh?"

She admitted, "I used to turn my extra pillow long ways and hold onto it at night and imagine that I was holding you."

"I can top that," he said with a slight chuckle, "Every time I had sex with a woman, I would try to imagine it was you. It never really worked, though. Pathetic, right?" He reached over and played with a long strand of her hair, twirling it around in his fingers. "Especially since we only made love that one time."

"I have something to admit that's even more pathetic," she said. "I never had sex the whole time I was gone. I didn't go out on one single date. Men would ask me out and I would say no. I never once had people over to my house, except for my mum and Harry, occasionally. No friends. No work colleagues. Never a date. The last time I ever made love, well, in a way the only time I ever _made love _was with you three years ago."

He was shocked by her admission, but his shock quickly turned to something else. Pity? No, not quite. Sadness. That's what it was. He felt sad for her. It was all of her own making, but he still felt sad for her

"I'm not a pillow, but you can hold me if you'd like," he said. He held open his arms. She tucked herself into his side; his arms went around her, her left arm draped across his chest, and her head rested on his shoulder.

"You're not as comfortable as a pillow," she joked, "But almost as smart."

"Yes, let's call the man who is being all sweet, nice and comforting, a dummy," he said sardonically. She smiled. He couldn't see her smile, but somehow, he felt it.

"Goodnight, Draco."

He smiled, too, and she felt it by the way his arms tighten around her. "Goodnight, Hermione."


	30. 30 Sweet

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 30: Sweet:**

Sitting on the kitchen floor, surrounded by four boxes, Hermione held up a little green and white saucer. How odd that something like this would survive an exploding house intact. Even odder was the fact that Harry thought she would want to save it. It was just a saucer, which didn't even have a matching teacup any longer. She started to put it in the box she had put aside for trash, but then set it in the box of salvageable items instead. It was a nice little saucer, after all.

She pulled the third box closer to her, having already gone through the first two. It contained pretty much the same things. Knick-knacks, pieces of pictures, parts of books. Hardly anything was worth saving. She pushed the third box away from her and got up on her knees, to look back in the box of the things she had saved. Nothing in there was important to her. Nothing. She picked up the box and emptied the entire contents into the rubbish box, save for the little green and white saucer. She picked up the saucer, placed it in Draco's sink, and walked toward the bedroom.

Draco was sleeping. He had gone back to bed a few hours ago. It was understandable. They didn't get much sleep last night. After her attack, then her temper-tantrum, then their heart-to-heart talk, and then two hours of sleep, followed by an early morning visit by Harry to take a report of what happened last night, she was sure that Draco deserved his nap.

After Harry left, Ron came by and got her boxes for her. Sweet Ron. Draco grunted when he arrived and reminded him that he could have gotten the damn boxes. Sweet Draco. She almost laughed aloud, certain that he would hate it if he ever knew she thought of him as 'sweet'. She stood before him and reached out to brush his bangs off his forehead. She leaned closer to him. He really did looked somewhat sweet when he was sleeping. He looked younger when he slept. He looked untouched by turmoil and despair. He looked happier when he slept. She sat next to him on the bed and reached out for him again, but pulled back.

Now that she was in her right mind, she was embarrassed that she let him 'bathe' her last night. She was completely naked in front of him and the thing that embarrassed her most about that was that she wasn't embarrassed about it. She felt comfortable being nude in front of him. She felt safe sleeping in his arms. What was happening here? Were they a couple again? Were they ever a couple? Were they still in love? Were they ever in love? Were they living together? She was so confused. She lay down next to him and watched his face, content in the moment. Right now, she didn't want to decide what they were, or what was happening. She just wanted to look at him.

She reached out once more, pulled back, reached out again, and he said, "Either touch me or don't, but stop being so damn indecisive."

"How long have you been awake?" she asked.

With his eyes still closed he said, "I'm not awake. I'm talking in my sleep."

"Really?" she asked, amused.

"Yes," he answered.

"Do you always talk in your sleep?" she asked.

"No, I usually just sleep in my sleep," he said. She smiled and reached for him, to pull back her hand again. Before she could retract it completely, he reached for it suddenly, and pulled her on top of him. He opened his eyes.

"Good morning," he greeted.

"It's afternoon," she said.

"Then I amend my statement. Good afternoon," he corrected. "What have you been doing?"

"Going through the four little boxes that Harry salvaged from the house. I still have to go through the four little boxes from my office, and then after that, maybe, just perhaps, I might have one little box of belongings to call my own," she said.

"You poor indigent thing," he said. It occurred to her that he was still holding her on top of him, that his one hand was in her hair, and his other hand right above her bum, and she rather liked it. More than that, it felt right. "I shall make you my charity case."

"That would be nice, although, I think you already have. You've already taken pity on me and given me a home, and bought me clothes. You really are rather sweet."

He made a funny face, as if he tasted something sour. "Gads, sweet? Me? Please, never, ever refer to me as sweet. That's an absolute insult, Granger. I'm handsome, sexy as hell, intelligent, with a dry sense of humour. I am not ever, nor will I ever be, sweet."

"Duly noted," she said. "However, even you said you were being sweet last night." She moved in his arms slightly so that she could kiss his chin.

"Why did you kiss me?" he asked.

"Because you're sweet," she said.

He rolled them over and propped himself above her and said, "Take that back this instant!"

"Draco Malfoy is the sweetest man I've ever met," she shouted.

He put both her arms above her head and whispered in her ear, "Say that again, and suffer the consequences." He was about to kiss her, but when he brought his head up from the crook of her neck, he saw the most panicked look on her face. He immediately let go of her arms and rolled off her, reminding himself that she had to take baby steps. He sat up, his back toward her, and he said, "Sorry bout that."

She reached up and stroked his bare back. His eyes shut; and almost melted at her touch. She said, "No, I'm the one that's sorry. I can't stand to be held down."

"I remember. I mean, I forgot, but now I remember," he mumbled. He cleared his throat and scooted off the bed, still not looking at her. He went to the bathroom and she heard the click of the lock. She remained on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

She wondered if things would ever get better. Would the feeling of anxiousness and fear at being confined ever go away? It was Draco. He wouldn't hurt her. Why did she let bad memories ruin new ones? She put one of the pillows over her head and screamed as silently as she could, bunching the pillow in her mouth to stifle the sound.

She threw the pillow on the floor as she heard the shower start. Damn it all to hell. She wanted to be normal. Why couldn't she just forget the past? She tried for so long, and so hard, to forget and now all of the sudden, she was remembering EVERTYHING! Not only the good things, but also the bad. She rolled off the bed and walked back into the kitchen to look in her rubbish box. She decided to sort through the items again. Maybe she would save a few more things. She needed more than just a saucer in her life, didn't she?

She was almost finished with her task when she came upon a picture in a frame in the very last box. It was the picture from graduation. It was a wonder that it survived the explosion intact. Taken on the same day as the picture Draco had in his living room, it was of all three of them…Draco, Theo and her. Her Mum took it. They were smiling and waving. The Draco in the picture smiled at the camera, and then looked at the Hermione in the picture and smiled at her. She turned from looking straight at the camera and smiled at him. They smiled at each other. She touched the picture. It almost hurt to realize how much in love they were even back then, and the fact that they didn't declare it to each other.

Draco walked in the room, after having dressed, knelt down, and took the picture from her. He stood back up and walked in the living room. Hermione leaned back to watch him. She lay down upon the floor, on her back, and said, "What are you doing with my picture?"

"Come see."

She rolled over and stood up. She walked to the living room. He had placed her picture on the shelf over the telly, beside the picture of him and Theo. Then she watched as he walked over to the closet in the hall, reached for a little wooden box on the top shelf, opened it, and withdrew what looked like another picture. He walked back in the living room, and placed this third picture to the left of her picture. It was one of just her and him, also taken on graduation day. He did still have it. He saved it all this time. She assumed that he hadn't.

As they both stood back and looked at the three pictures, all on the shelf, in a row, she asked, "What does this mean, Malfoy?"

"What do you want it to mean?"

"Do you still love me?" she asked hesitantly.

He smirked and looked at her. "I thought I already told you that, but I'll answer your question if you answer mine. Do you still think I'm sweet?"

"Heavens, yes," she said with a laugh.

"Fine," he said, with feigned abhorrence. "I guess I still love you, then." He reached over, put his hand on the back of her neck, and pulled her toward him. He placed his arm around her shoulders, and they remained like that for several more minutes, her arm around his waist, his around her shoulder, staring at what they used to be, and hoping for what they might become.


	31. 31 Tedium and Inventory

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 31: Tedium and Inventory:**

"Can we go somewhere? Do something? Anything at all? I feel cooped up in this house and I'm bored to tears." Hermione had her knees on his couch, facing the back pillows, her hand holding back his curtain, peering out the large picture window at the grey day in front of her. The snow had finally stopped, thus the ground was covered in the proverbial blanket of white. The sky was an eerie translucent grey colour. It was a cold, ugly day, but Hermione Granger thought it was colder and uglier inside.

It had been 24 hours since they had told the other that they were still in love, yet no further progression had been made. Hermione was confused by his lack of affection. This wasn't how she had envisioned being in love with Draco would be. She always imagined that on a grey, cold day such as this, they might light a fire, have hot chocolate, read with either her head in his lap or his head in hers, or perhaps they would cuddle on the bed, solve a crossword puzzle, and huddle together against the cold. Handholding would also be a must.

She thought they would slowly get to know each other again…talk about their wants for the future, kiss a bit, touch a bit, and perhaps make love. She imagined it so many times in her head over the years. She wanted to make love to him again, but she must repulse him for some reason. He seemed hesitant even to be near her. She initiated exactly two hugs since they had told each other that they were still in love, and both resulted in a big fat zero.

She even purposely touched him when she passed him the salt at the breakfast table, but he withdrew his hand so fast it was as if she had acid on hers, and he had been burnt.

She thought she knew what love was, but gee, did she ever have it wrong.

Not that her wants and wishes were that far off the mark from Draco's wants and wishes. He too had envisioned declaring his love to Granger, spending long winter days in bed together, arms and legs wrapped around each other, bodies slick with a fine sheen of perspiration from the hot amazing sex they had just had. And after they made love, and they were basking in the soft afterglow, they would of course do it again.

He never visualized it like this. He pictured sleeping with her so many times and in so many ways over the years that his body actually ached with need for her. Her closeness was close to painful to him. She was still sleeping with him, but just sleeping. They hugged twice in the last twenty-four hours, but hadn't kissed once. There was slight touching, but no exploration of hands. In fact, the slight touching happened when he asked her to pass the salt and their fingers touched, but that was all.

He wondered if this was what it was like being in love, because it rather felt like it did before they declared their feelings.

Was he the one holding back or was it her? Perhaps she was waiting for him to make the first move. He tried to make the first move when he tackled her and rolled her over in bed but the look on her face cooled him quicker than a tub of ice cubes down his trousers.

She looked scared. Of him. He never wanted to scare her. If he scared her, he might lose her, and he would rather have her near, yet unattainable, than far way, and unattainable.

"I'm bored, Malfoy," she finally said. He stood in the doorway, having already heard her earlier ramblings about being 'cooped up' and bored. The fact that she was bored here with him ticked him off a bit. She was supposed to WANT to be here with him, not sick of his company and thinking up ways to leave him, only twenty-four hours after they had declared their love.

She plopped her bum back on the sofa seat and looked up at him as he still stood in the doorway. "Draco, did you hear me?"

"Of course I did, and you know, this isn't my idea of a honeymoon, either," he said. It came out with a bit more vinegar than he wanted, but he couldn't take back his tone of voice anymore than he could dye his hair red.

Now she looked pensive and he felt bad. Damn her and damn him and damn their being in love, anyway.

She stood up slowly and walked into the bedroom. He thought she was probably going to throw herself on the bed, start wallowing in tears, and he would have to go and apologize…wait, was that a pillow that just hit him on the head?

He turned around and saw that she had the second bed pillow in her hand and she said, "I'll hit you with this one too if you don't start acting normal."

Normal? Did she know the meaning of the word? Anyway, wasn't acting, 'normal' a subjective thing? Before she could throw the other pillow at him he picked up the first one and threw it at her, and it hit her square on the face and he laughed. He laughed at her and it felt good. It felt, dare he think it? Normal.

Hermione smiled and said, "Let's go to my mum's house."

"Are you nuts?" he asked. "Wait, that one's a given, I meant to say, no."

"Ha, Malfoy thinks he's a ruddy comedian now," she said, throwing the bed pillows on the couch. "I just meant that it's time for me to see to some things, and I feel ready, you know, more emotionally stable, and it will break up this tedium."

"No," he said again.

"I'll go without you," she challenged.

He laughed and said, "I'd like to see you try. You know, I still have your wand hidden from the other day.

She gave his an ornery grin, walked over to the kitchen, got a chair from the table, brought it to the living room, and much to Draco's chagrin, she placed it in front of the fireplace, stood up on the chair, pushed a loose brick, and when it moved slightly, reached in blindly, and pulled out her wand. "Ta da!" she said. "And I did it without magic."

He glared at her. Then he asked, "Are you afraid of me?"

"I'm afraid _for_ you because your skill at hiding things is so lacking," she said as she took the chair back to the other room. She walked in twirling her wand and said, "But I would never be afraid of you." Hermione pointed her wand at him, closed one eye as if she was aiming and then brought her wand back down to her side.

"Are you afraid to touch me?" he asked.

"As in you might have a transmittable disease or something?" she asked back with a straight face.

"I mean it, Granger. We shouldn't be bored here. I'm just as bored out of my mind as you are, and that's just wrong on so many levels. We love each other still, or so we declared, and so boredom shouldn't even be in the picture."

She placed her wand on the end table and walked up to him. She said, "You mean we should be kissing, and holding hands, and kissing and talking and kissing?"

"Well, more like, kissing, holding hands, jumping bones, and the like," he said with a smirk.

"I wouldn't mind that, but you seem reluctant. I thought perhaps it was because we had been away from each other for too long, and we had to get to know each other again," she explained.

"Hey, it's you that's been acting distance and aloof," he said, injured.

"No," she said, drawing the word out. "It's you."

"You act like you're afraid of me," he finally admitted.

"I'm not," she answered honestly. "You're the one person I've always felt the safest with, even back in Hogwarts, at the final battle, I was almost glad it was you that came upon me with those Death Eaters, instead of someone else."

The fact that she was initiating a conversation that had anything to do with that night was a good sign, so he sat on the couch, patted the seat beside him and said, "Why was that?"

"I thought since you were who you were, and your father was who he was, perhaps it would sway them to leave me alone. I knew you wouldn't let them kill me," she said.

"How could you have known? Why would you assume otherwise?" He was curious to know.

She reached over and took his hand. She turned it around in her hands and looked at the palm. His hands were nice. He had strong hands. Hands that could comfort. She said, "When Harry, Ron and I were captured and taken to Malfoy Manor, you never once gave away our identity to your father and aunt, not outright. Also, when your aunt was torturing me, I looked at you twice. Once you looked me straight in the eyes, and I knew you felt remorse for what was happening, and you felt helpless to help, and that you felt badly for what was happening, which meant you had a conscience and a moral sense of right and wrong."

"You said you looked at me twice," he reminded, as she continued to hold his hand, now with only her left hand, her right hand busy rubbing up and down his arm.

"The second time was when I had almost collapsed in pain, and I had just screamed what I thought was my last scream, and I looked over at you, and you had turned your head and you winced. You had to look away. A person without scruples would have watched. I knew you wouldn't leave me that day in the dungeons. I know I told you to run, and you told me once that you wanted to leave, and Theo wouldn't let you, but I think even if Theo had said, fine, let's leave, you wouldn't have left me."

"Even I didn't know that I wouldn't have left, not back then," he said, "But I'm glad I didn't. I'm thankful someone had faith in me back in those days. I guess that perhaps the barrier between us is of my making. I don't want you to be afraid of me, and I don't want you to regret falling back in love with me."

"I didn't fall back in love," she said, dropping his hand. He frowned. "Oh don't be stupid, Malfoy," she chastised, picking his hand back up. "I never fell out of love. I was just lost for a while. I'm back, and I hope I'm back to stay, and you know, if sometimes unpleasant memories come back because of a certain way that you touch me, or kiss me, then that's an obstacle we'll climb over, okay?"

"Fine, let's kiss," he said with a smile. He pushed her over on the couch, and held his body on top of hers, his arms supporting his weight. He let his weight drop suddenly, she pushed him off her just as sudden, and he landed on the floor by the couch.

She looked over the edge and said, "Sorry. That reaction wasn't because you dredged up an unpleasant memory. It's just that you're a bit heavier these days."

He frowned for the umpteenth time, and she rolled off the couch, and on top of him. "Oomph," he exclaimed. She pulled down a couch pillow; put it under her head to lie down beside him.

He reached over and with his index finger and he traced her eyebrows and then down her jaw. He said, "I think I need to take an inventory of you, Miss Granger. For my permanent records, you understand. Kind of like you did for insurance purposes when you lost all your things in the explosion. If I ever lose you, I want to know what I need to replace."

"I understand," she said.

He propped himself over her with one arm and stroked her hair with the other hand. He said, "Hair, soft as silk, bouncing and brown, with gold streaks. Check."

She laughed and said, "Should I be keeping a tally?"

"No," he answered. "I'll keep a running tally in my head." He stroked her face with his fingertips, down one side, up the other, back down with his knuckles. He said, "One pretty face, with the mandatory two eyes, one mouth, one nose, check."

She smiled as his fingertips touched her mouth. She said, "You already took inventory of my mouth."

"Your face was a category, and your mouth is a sub-category, pay attention," he said. She decided that she would pay close attention. She liked this. She liked the attention he was paying to her, too. It felt good. Right. Almost challenging, as odd as that sounded. She felt warmth in her midsection that spread to her fingers and toes. She tried to relax at his touch, but it felt anything but relaxing.

His index finger went around her mouth twice, and then with the pad of his thumb, he rubbed her bottom lip twice. Her mouth parted slightly. He slipped just a fraction of his thumb inside her mouth, and then he leaned down. He kissed her lips lightly, said, "Top lip, above satisfactory." Then he kissed and slightly pulled on her bottom lip and he said, "Bottom lip full and delightful." Then he angled his mouth directly over hers, kissed her full and hard, and when she parted her mouth, and her tongue came out to touch his before he could initiate it, he pulled away and said, "Tongue, wow, check."

She couldn't suppress her giggle when his hand went down her chin, to the hollow of her throat, and then across her collarbone, slightly under the collar of the shirt. He said, "Neck is perfect, long and graceful," and he leaned over and actually bit her neck slightly, before sucking on it and then swiping his tongue across it. It was one of the most sensual feelings Hermione had ever felt. Her Henley styled shirt had five buttons in the front, which ended over the swell of her breasts. She only had the bottom two buttoned, which showed just a hint of cleavage.

He unbuttoned the fourth button and then the last, exposing her lacy bra. He raised his brows up and down and said, "Nice."

"You picked it out," she said, referring to her bra.

He snickered and said, "I meant something else entirely, although if I had to pick out what I was referring to, you would still be perfect." He leaned down and kissed her chest, right above the opening of her shirt, then he pulled aside one side of her shirt, and kissed the slight swell of her breast above her bra. He uttered, "Left breast, excellent." He pulled aside the other side of her shirt, kissed the right breast, just the top, the same way, but his time, his hand came to cover her left breast while he kissed and nuzzled her right one, and he said, "Right one's great as well."

His hand went from cupping her breast, to the flat of her stomach. His little finger was on bare skin, from where her shirt had ridden up as she lay on the carpet. He rubbed her stomach, making her laugh slightly, and he said, "Ticklish, check." He skimmed her side, from her rib to her hip with his knuckles, and leaned down and kissed the exposed skin over her jeans, between her shirt and the waistband of her pants. His lips grazed lightly over the skin of her stomach, raining five small kisses on the same exposed skin. He looked up, both hands on her sides, his chin resting on her stomach, her head tilted up to look at him and he said, "Stomach, rumbling a bit, but besides that, check."

He was about to go farther when his blasted mobile phone rang from its place on the kitchen table.

"Draco, your phone," she said as he was pushing the knitted material of her shirt up slightly so he could kiss her side.

He straddled her body, and tore off his shirt. He leaned down to kiss her mouth again when she turned her head and said, "Get the phone first."

"I'm not done with my inventory," he said, seriously.

She pushed him off her. He lay on his back, beside her, his arm draped over his eyes, and he said, "Is it too much to ask for a fellow to finish his inventory once in a while?"

She climbed over him, kneeing his groin (he was sure on purpose) which hurt on so many levels and for so many reasons that he almost cried out, and then she ran to the kitchen table and found his phone. He pulled his shirt back over his head. She opened the phone quickly, and before she could say hello, she heard Harry's voice on the other end.

"Malfoy, I think your theories may be right. We got the magical imprint back from the curse that killed Hermione's mother, and it definitely points to your suspect. I think your theories as to why are correct, too. It's probably revenge against Hermione, although I don't want you to tell her that. She feels guilty enough. Draco? Did you hear me? Draco?" Hermione heard everything and as Draco walked into the kitchen and held out his hand for the phone, the confused look on Hermione's face told him she had heard too much, and he knew it was Harry who had called, because Harry's ring tone was 'The Death March', and that was the ring that proceeded the call.

He withdrew his hand, refusing to take the phone from her. He heard Potter's voice on the other line calling his name. He was shaking his head no. "Hermione, let me explain," Draco started, "It's just that I thought I knew who it might be, but I didn't want to tell you until we were sure." She threw the phone at him and stomped off to the bedroom.

He caught the phone, and as Potter was still asking, "Is anyone there?"

Draco yelled into the phone, "Potter, next time you call someone, let the fucking person on the other end say hello before you start blabbing your mouth! Hermione answered the phone, and now she's angry and hurt, and we haven't even finished inventory yet!" He slammed the phone shut and threw it against the wall.


	32. 32 Worthy

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 32: Worthy:**

"You're such a git," Draco said from the passenger side of Harry's car.

"Yeah, well, I've said I'm sorry four times, so what else can I do?" Harry complained. He turned down a dark lane, the road slick with ice. "Are you sure she still lives here?"

"Last I heard."

They were on their way to interview Theo's mother, Alva Nott. She was sent an Owl two hours earlier informing her that two Auror were coming to question her on the death of Dr. Granger. She was requested to lower the wards of her house so that they could enter. Draco had a nagging hunch that perhaps somehow the old woman was more deranged than she used to be, and that she could, perhaps, be responsible for the attack on Dr. Granger and Hermione. Even though the witness to Dr. Granger's murder, the squib gardener, said that the person who killed Dr. Granger was a man, when questioned further he said he just assumed that, and he never actually got a good look.

Forensic science, when applied to magic, had come a long way, and Aurors could now obtain a magical fingerprint, or an imprint, of not only the last spell that was cast, but often of the person who cast it. Draco told Potter his theory, Potter had the imprint examined next to known spells previously cast by Theo himself, and they came up with a sort of 'magical DNA'. There were properties that existed in both Theo's last know spell, which was the spell he cast to tamper with the gas pedal of the car he drove at the time of his death, and the murder of Hermione's mum.

No one thought Theo was the guilty party. Harry and Draco had both gone to the man's funeral. He was certainly dead. That left only two other people who could have the same magical DNA, since Theo had no siblings. His father, who died years ago in Azkaban, and his mother, who was still very much alive.

Thus, the road trip between Harry and Draco to question the woman. They finally reached the woman's house and Harry turned off the car. Draco turned to Harry and said, "I don't care if you've apologized, you're still a git." They parked the car out front of the old, stately manor, got out of the car, and Harry rang the bell.

Last night, after Harry's insensitive phone call to Draco, in which Hermione answered instead of Draco, Draco was forced, through a closed, locked, bedroom door, to confide his theory to Hermione.

After he told her his theories, he waited for her to open the bedroom door, rush into his arms, tell him that she was sorry that she 'once again' overreacted, kiss him, and tell him that she loved him.

In other words, he was waiting for hell to freeze over, because apparently that was more likely to happen than his little scenario. He kicked the bedroom door, called her a spoiled brat, told her that his first instinct not to tell her anything was the right one since she was acting so abhorrently, and oh, by the way, he had the pillows to the bed out in the living room still, so have a good night sleep without them. For good measure he kicked the bedroom door a second time and said, "By the way, it's only 3:26 in the afternoon, and I know you'll have to go to the bathroom or eat eventually, and when you do, I'm taking the damn hinges off the door, and you'll never slam it in my face again." He then tried to open it with magic, although he knew in his heart that she had probably used an equal amount of magic to bar him from the room. When magic didn't work, he gave up.

At 5:49 pm, he went to the bathroom. He knew that with her wand she would make a makeshift toilet if she wanted, so she wouldn't have to leave the room for toilet breaks. He knew she had water in there on the nightstand from the night before, because heaven forbid that she should put her glass of water from the night before in the kitchen, so she wouldn't die of thirst anytime soon. She probably found his emergency reserve of biscuits that he hid under his sock drawer by now. Though his wards were set so that she couldn't leave the house, she could bloody well survive in the bedroom for days, and at this point, that was just fine with Draco!

The next morning, when Harry stopped by to pick up Draco to go to Mrs. Nott's house, Draco, who had showered and eaten breakfast, had to put on the same clothes as the day before since she was still locked in the bedroom. Draco decided not even to tell her goodbye. Let her wonder and worry. Harry brought the young Auror named Timmons to guard her while they were gone.

"Why did you bring him? She'll outsmart him in five seconds. Do you want to come back and find she's gone?" Draco asked.

Timmons, who was used to Draco's put downs, merely walked in the house and sat at the kitchen table. Harry glared at Draco and said, "They'll be fine. He knows not to let her leave. He's a fully qualified Auror, with only six months less experience than you, I might add." The other men left the house, and Timmons was left to guard Hermione. He was playing a game of Wizard's chess, by himself, in Draco's living room when Hermione walked out of the bedroom at ten o'clock that morning. She didn't recognize the young man from the night she was taken to her mother's house, the night she was murdered, so at first she was taken aback. Her hand flew to her wand and she stated, "Who are you?"

The young Auror put down his rook and stood up, arms above his head. "I'm Evan Timmons, Miss Granger. I'm an Auror. I met you the night, well, I mean, we've met, don't you remember?"

"Where's Draco?" she asked.

"He went with Harry to question a suspect about a case," he answered evasively.

Hermione recognized the young man, and lowered her wand. "Are you my babysitter?"

"No, I'm your bodyguard," he answered as he sat back down and moved his chess piece. She smiled and sat beside him on the couch.

"You're playing by yourself?" she asked.

"I've charmed the other pieces to move the most optimal move, so that even though I'm playing myself, I'll have a challenge. Would you like to play instead?" he asked.

"Heavens, no," she said. She leaned against the sofa back and asked, "How long have they been gone?"

"About an hour," he answered, moving his knight.

"How long do you think they'll be gone?" she queried.

"I've no clue," he said, and then he cursed, as his queen was ruthlessly slaughtered by a piece from the other side. He shrugged and said, "I can't even beat myself."

Hermione laughed. "I guess I could play, and you'll probably beat me, because I'm not very good." She started to help him put the pieces back together with magic.

"I know, Ron Weasley plays with me sometimes, and he once said that the only person he knew who was shoddier at Wizard's chess than me was Hermione Granger," Timmons admitted.

"Oh really now?" she asked. She smiled and said, "That's true, sadly enough." They played a full game, and Hermione did indeed lose. He asked her if she wanted to play again, but all she said was, "How long have they been gone now?"

He looked at the clock over the mantel and said, "Two hours or so."

She stood up, stretched her arms, and then said, "Am I permitted to leave my prison, or are your orders absolute in that I'm not to leave at all?"

"Um," he started, "Well, where do you need to go? If you need something, I can get it for you."

"I want to go to my mother's house," she said.

"No, sorry," he answered, coming to stand beside her.

"Please. You're an Auror. You'll watch out for me, right?" she asked, trying to butter him up.

"Mr. Malfoy would kill me," he admitted.

"Who?" she asked. She really thought he meant Lucius Malfoy, whom she knew was long dead.

"Draco Malfoy, the man you're staying with, blond hair, black clothing, mean, hateful, spiteful, pompous, snob, you know," he said, quite seriously.

"Why do you call him Mr. Malfoy?" she requested with a grin.

"He once told me that I could only call him Mr. Malfoy or sir, so I'm just used to it," he answered.

Hermione laughed and said, "He makes you? He's not your boss is he? I mean, Harry's the boss, right?"

"Well, Mr. Malfoy is usually the senior Auror on when I work and even when he's not, he doesn't like me to call him by his name, and only Harry and Ron calls him Malfoy," Timmons explained.

"What do the other's call him?" she questioned.

The younger man smiled and asked, "To his face, or behind his back?"

Hermione laughed again and decided that she wouldn't try to manipulate this young man after all. She liked him. She would get "Mr. Malfoy" to take her to her mother's house later.

Harry and Draco walked back to Harry's car and after leaving Mrs. Nott's house and Harry said, "That was a colossal waste of time."

"She wasn't very forthcoming, was she," Draco agreed.

"She won't submit to a magical imprinting test, we have no solid evidence against her to force her to take it, she claims not even to remember Hermione, or the fact that she was friends and later engaged to her son. All she wanted to talk about was her fucking dead husband!" Harry expounded, while driving away from the house.

Draco turned, a bit shocked, because of the passion in Harry's voice. Harry usually didn't let cases get the better of him, and he never used crude language when on duty. Then again, this was different. This was Hermione. Draco knew it was different for him, so it was bound to be different for Harry as well.

"We'll figure out another angle," Draco concluded. "Maybe a baited trap or something."

Harry turned to look at Draco and asked, "You want to use Hermione as bait?"

"Yes, I do," he admitted. What he really wanted was for all of this to be over with so that he could have a normal life with the woman he loved, or at least as normal as the two of them could ever have. He didn't think that was too much to ask for, was it?

"I'll have to think about it," Harry said after a moment of silence. It made sense, but he didn't want to admit as much.

Harry dropped Draco off at his house and said, "Tell Timmons to apparate back. I have somewhere else I need to go before I get back to work."

Draco walked up his sidewalk, and through his front door. He let himself in, and he immediately noticed that the house was unusually quiet. He noticed that a chess set was on the coffee table; the telly was on, the fireplace lit, so there were at least signs of life. He walked silently toward the kitchen, where he saw two cups of tea, both partially empty. He took out his wand for some reason. He walked toward the partially opened bedroom door, and pushed it open a bit more with his hand. He saw Hermione sitting on the bed next to Timmons, their backs toward him, facing the window.

Hermione's shoulders were slumped over and she was crying. Timmons had a bed pillow over his lap, and was angled slightly toward her. Draco didn't want to let on that he was there yet, because he wanted to wait and hear what they were discussing first. He took a backwards step out of the room, and leaned his head to the left, to watch and listen.

"But how can I reason away the way I _do_ _feel_ and the way that I _should feel_? My intellectual side tells me that you're right, but my heart is at conflict with my head," she said through her tears. Draco realized that they must have been talking about her mother.

"It's not whether or not you know that she loved you, because of course she did, but the thing you have to remember is that she knew _you loved her_," Timmons said. "She was your mum. Mums know those types of things. When I take my laundry to my mum's house, she knows I do it out of love, and I know that when she folds my boxers, she does it because she loves me back."

She couldn't help but laugh at that. She blew her nose and said, "I just never had time for her. She would call me and I wouldn't call her back. She would send me cards, sometimes for no reason, just a card to say I love you, and yet on her last birthday, I didn't even send her a card. What type of person am I? I can't believe the type of person I've become. She didn't do anything to me, so why did I punish her?"

"You didn't do those things to punish her, you did them to punish yourself, and you're still trying to punish yourself. You think you aren't worthy of love, but you are. Nothing you've done, either real or imaginary, warrants that type of punishment. Give yourself a reprieve from the pain and the guilt. That's what she would have wanted. Honour her life and her death by starting to live again, Hermione. She knew you needed time to heal, so heal already," the younger man said.

"She probably thought I hated her," she repeated.

"Of course she didn't, don't be stupid," the man said. Draco almost smiled at how blunt the young man was being with her. "She loved you, you loved her, and eventually you would have come around and realized that you needed her again. You would have."

"If she hadn't died, I don't think I would have come back," she reasoned. "Even though I missed her, and Harry and most of all Draco. I was on a self-imposed prison term, in my own mind, and now that I've had a chance to step back and examine everything, I see that I was so wrong. How can any of them forgive me for being away? I mean, I know it's too late for her, but sometimes I wonder if it's too late for me and Draco, too."

Timmons turned to look at Draco. Draco didn't know how the other man knew he was there. He smiled at Draco and then turned to Hermione and said, "Mr. Malfoy apparently loves you a lot, and always has. It's not too late for you two. Do you know that sometimes I used to catch him looking at a picture of you, that he kept in his desk drawer? He kept it in his top drawer, and at least twice a week I would catch him taking it out and looking at it. One day I asked Ron who was in the picture and he said it was a picture of you. When Mr. Malfoy walked in and heard that we were discussing him and your picture, he threw a big fit and took the picture home with him that night."

"A man doesn't look at a picture, almost everyday, for three years, if he didn't love a person. A man wouldn't take you into his home, and try to keep you safe, if he didn't love you. Your mother loved you, your friends love you, and Mr. Malfoy loves you, now the only thing you need to do is to find it in your heart to love yourself." He stood up and said, "Mr. Malfoy's back, so I should go."

Hermione looked quickly over her shoulder as Draco sauntered, as carefree as he could gather, into his bedroom. As the young man started toward the door, Draco held out his hand for the other man to shake. He said, "Call me Draco from now on." They shook hands and the other man left.

Hermione remained on the bed, facing the window once more, trying in vain to hide her recent tears. Draco crawled up behind her on the bed, and sat behind her, his legs on each side of hers, and his arms around her waist. She leaned back on his chest, and closed her eyes. He kissed the side of her neck. He said, "I always did like that fellow. He's a smart young man."

"I think so," Hermione answered. "Did you find out anything?"

"Let's put it this way," Draco answered, "our day was less enlightening than yours." He kissed her cheek. "I do love you still. I always have."

"My mother loved me," she stated as fact. She looked over her shoulder and asked, "I know you've probably had a long day, but will you take me to my mum's? I really need to go there. I think it will help me heal. I need to tell her goodbye, and not at a graveyard, and not just in my mind, but in my heart and soul."

He took a deep breath and said, "I would probably do anything for you." He moved away from her body, stood up and offered her his hand. She looked up into his grey eyes and knew for the first time that she was worthy of his love, and this was the very first time she had ever truly felt that.


	33. 33 Photographs and Patterns

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 33: Photographs and Patterns:**

"How old were you in this picture?" Draco asked. They had been at Hermione's childhood home for over two hours, and they were presently upstairs in her mother's room, sorting through photographs and papers. Hermione turned from her place at her mother's desk, leaned over and looked at the picture in question.

Draco was sitting on the floor, his back against the opened closet door, and he held up the picture for her. She joined him on the floor, took the picture, turned it around and in her mother's neat handwriting she saw the words: _Hermione, July 1980, Ten Months Old. _"I was only ten months old in that one." She handed him back the picture, he looked at the back as well, and then laughed.

"Sorry, I didn't look at the back," he stated. He studied the picture a bit longer and said, "Your hair was long and curly even as a little baby. Not even a year old, and your hair is to your shoulders."

She nodded and said, "I've always had a lot of hair."

He smiled at her, touched her hair, and said, "I've always loved your hair. I used to wonder what it felt like back in school."

She took the photo from him and placed it in the pile of the ones she was going to save and said, "That's why you always made fun of it back then, right?"

"It was subterfuge, my dear. I had to pretend to hate you so that you wouldn't know that I was secretly in love," he joked.

"Is that why you acted like you hated Harry and Ron, too?"

He made a funny face and said, "That was true and unadulterated hate."

"I think you were much more hateful to me, than to them," she pointed out.

"As I said, it was all an act." He pulled the box over to his lap and pulled out more pictures. There were Muggle pictures from every year of her life. He smiled at a few of them. It wasn't really true that he loved her in school. He probably did 'hate' her, although hate was not really the right word. It didn't matter. He knew he didn't hate her now.

He laughed when he saw a picture of a naked Hermione, just a few months old, on a blanket. He put it under her nose as she was looking at other pictures and said, "Naked and on a bear skin rug! You should be ashamed. Perhaps we should recreate this photo when we get home." They both laughed and then he said, "You had a head full of hair even at," he turned the picture around to look at the writing on the back, "four months old!"

"That's a blanket, not a bear skin rug," was all she said back. She smiled then and asked, "Were you bald as a baby or something? Is that why you're so obsessed with the fact that I had so much hair?"

He grimaced, put that picture in her pile, and then said, "Fine, I was bald as a doorknob until I was two years old."

She reached out, touched his hair and said, "I seriously can't picture you bald."

"Good, because I never will be again," he announced.

She laid her head on his shoulder and pulled out a picture of her father when he was young. She said, "Wasn't he good looking? That was taken when he was just seventeen. He had dark hair and striking blue eyes. I got my brown eyes from my mum." Then she repeated, "Wasn't he good looking?"

Draco joked, "I'm not qualified to say. I'm a man and other men simply don't see their fellow men as good looking or not. Maybe gay men do, but not other men. It's something innate, in our genes, I think."

"You're so stupid," she said. She flicked his nose with her fingers. He frowned at her. She placed the picture of her father on top of the pile of pictures she wanted to take with her back to Draco's house, stood up, and placed them on her mother's desk. Draco put the other pictures back in the box, closed the lid, and placed the box back in the closet.

"I wonder what I should do with this house," Hermione asked. "I mean, it was put in my name a long time ago, before she died even, but I don't think I ever want to live here, but maybe I should. I bet you would like to get rid of me and get your bachelor pad back." She fingered a letter opener on the desk.

"Yes, you're seriously cramping my style," Draco said back to her. "I haven't had a date since, oh, eight months ago."

She turned to him quickly and said, "I've been staying with you for only three weeks."

"Then I guess you aren't cramping my style," he said back. "Bachelor pad, indeed. This isn't the 1960's, Granger. No one says, 'bachelor pad'. I think you should stay with me as long as you want." He started to say 'forever', but changed his mind at the end.

She stretched and said, "I should go through the kitchen, and throw out the old food before we leave. I feel like we got a lot done." In reality, all they had done was boxed up a few things from her old bedroom, these pictures from her mother's room, a couple of pieces of jewelry from her mother's dresser drawer, and some of Hermione's old clothes, which she said should still fit, even if they were out of style.

They started down the stairs, her treasures in boxes, when Draco nodded to a door at the end of the hallway. "What's in that room?"

"That was my dad's room," she said. "It used to be their bedroom, but remember, I told you that my mum moved to the guestroom when his depression started." Suddenly, she dropped the boxes she was holding. She stared at the door. She almost looked like she was in a trance. Draco placed his boxes down and walked up to her.

"What's wrong, love?" he asked.

She didn't say anything. He started to reach for her, but she evaded his hand and walked down to the closed door of her father's room. She placed one hand on the dark wooden paneled door, and then the other, and then her forehead.

"Oh, Draco," she said. "It's a pattern."

He walked up behind her. He didn't know what was wrong, and he didn't know what she meant. He put his right hand next to her right hand, and his left hand next to her left hand. He nudged her hair aside with his nose, and then put his chin on her shoulder and said again, directly in her ear, "What's wrong?"

Without turning around she said, "I know what brought on my dad's depression. I just now remembered. Why did I forget? How could I forget?" She turned toward him and threw her arms around his neck. He held her waist. She pushed herself away from him and opened the door to the room. It was dark, the blinds shut and the curtains drawn. She turned on the light, and then opened the curtains and the blinds. The room had the odor of a room that was long ago abandoned, similar to the smell of a dark, dank attic, or a moldy, long forgotten basement. She turned on a light on a chest of drawers and walked deeper in the room.

Draco stayed at the threshold, unsure how to continue. Was she going to enlighten him with her memory, the way she had just 'enlightened' the room, or was she to keep her epiphany to herself?

She walked around the room. It looked as if her mother hadn't touched a thing from right after her father died. He died right in this room. On that bed. After his funeral, Hermione heard her mother crying in this room. Hermione stood in the doorway, as her mother dusted the furniture, stripped and then remade the bed, cleaned away the blood stains, swept the floors, and then she moved Hermione out of the doorway, closed the door, and said, "At least it's clean now."

Hermione thought at the time that was the oddest thing for her mother to say and do. Her father shot a hole in his head, right on that bed, and if it was Hermione, she would have burned everything in the room, but her mother merely cleaned it. She thought it was odd that she cried and cleaned, but then kept everything the same all these years. She walked deeper in the room, and turned around slowly. She looked out the windows. Her father's room faced the front of the house. It got the morning sun, which probably never had a chance to shine on these four walls, since the blinds were always shut, and the curtains usually closed.

Hermione walked over to Draco and said, "When I was five, my father's mother killed herself. I just remembered that. I didn't know at the time that was how she died. I barely remember her. I was told that she was ill, and died, but later, after he killed himself, my mum told me that my granny killed herself, too."

Draco took her hand. He thought it was odd that so many people in Hermione's life had killed themselves, and he wondered if that was the reason, she went off the deep end after Theo. He tried to pull her out of the room, but she resisted. She twisted her hand from his and turned back toward the room. With her back toward Draco she said, "My granny was badly burned as a teenager. She was sitting too close to a fireplace, and her dress caught on fire. She suffered with bad burns on her back and her legs. She became addicted to painkillers early on, and was insecure because she had some physical scars. After she had my dad and then his sister, she was in and out of hospitals." Hermione turned back around and said, "I really don't remember her, except that she had long curly hair, and her name was Helen, and she was so pretty."

Hermione sat down on a cedar chest that was at the end of the bed. Draco didn't want to enter this room for some reason. It gave him a creepy feeling, but he let that slide as he entered and sat next to her. If she needed to remember, and she needed to talk, he would let her, without saying a word, and without any qualms.

Hermione continued. "When I was little, my dad finally had her committed to a psychiatric hospital. You see, along with the addiction to the pills, she was depressed, from years of physical pain, and from the psychological scars brought on by her accident. It was while she was in the hospital that last time that she took an overdose of her medication. She had been hording them for weeks, not really taking them when they gave them to her, and then one night she took them all and she killed herself. She was in too much pain to keep going on."

Hermione started to cry. Draco placed one hand lightly on her back, but she shrugged it off, and then said, "Sorry." He shook his head. It was okay by him if she didn't want touched, as long as it was just a temporary thing.

She stood up and said, "It's a pattern, don't you see? She was depressed; she killed herself, which brought around my dad's depression! It was right after she died that he started having his 'dark days' and he started becoming depressed! Then, when he died, I think I might have suffered a bit from depression, but I never admitted it. Then, Theo's death exacerbated my problem! When I ran away, I didn't run away from all of you, or my mum!" She had tears running down her face and she clenched her fists tightly at her sides and said, "I was hiding from depression! I was trying to run away from what I was afraid I would become! I was afraid of becoming one of them! I didn't want to be my granny, my dad, or Theo! I WAS suffering from depression, and I was afraid, so I stopped! I stopped living! I stopped feeling! Oh, Draco, I stopped!"

She brought her hands up to her face and covered her eyes and cried some more. He took a chance, and walked up to her. He reached a tentative hand toward her, and she crumbled at his feet. He barely had time to catch her, and in fact, he collapsed down with her. He held her tightly and rocked her back and forth.

"I was afraid I would end up like them," she finally said.

"But you didn't," he reasoned, "and you won't, and do you know why? Because you're stronger than them."

"Don't say that!" she spat, pushing away from him. "Don't say they weren't strong! They couldn't help how they felt, how they reacted, and what they did!"

"I don't care," Draco said as he stood. He walked around her as she sobbed sitting at his feet. "You are stronger. You wouldn't have turned out like them, because you had a support system that they didn't have, and you had me."

"But they had people. I might still turn out like them," she said, in fear. That was what it boiled down to, and that was her biggest fear. What if she let the feelings run amuck, and take control and possession of her, and she drowned in her sorrow and pain. She didn't feel strong. Draco was wrong. She was weak. She said, "I'm not strong. I'm not. I'm not strong enough for this."

He kneeled beside her and said, "You are the strongest person I know, with one of the strongest wills to survive and live that I have ever known. I don't mean that there was anything missing in their characters, and I don't mean to put them down, but you are stronger, because you have finally recognized the pattern, and you're going to stop it from repeating. You already have."

"And it took my mother's death for me to see it," she cried.

"No, it took your own fortitude. It took your heart and brain. You would have figured it out eventually, but you know what, Granger?" He stood up and gave her his hand. He pulled her to stand beside him and said, "If one good thing can come from your mum's death, when nothing good came from your grandmother's, your father's, or Theo's, then maybe that makes this balance out a bit. It's not that it makes it right or like something good came from her murder, because nothing good comes from evil, but it means that her life continues through you, and instead of her death being your ruination, it's your rebirth."

She frowned, and then sighed. She hugged him close and said, "You are a walking inspirational book, Malfoy."

"I really am," he said with a laugh. "I really am."


	34. 34 Minute by Minute

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 34: Minute by Minute:**

Sitting in the passenger side of Draco's car, and watching the scenery pass by, Hermione made a decision. She knew it wasn't going to be easy, but it felt right. Now she just had to tell Draco.

She looked over at the man beside her, just a quick glance. She really loved him so much. She was sorry for any pain she had caused him, and she knew her decision might cause him additional pain, and for that, she was already sorry. She looked back out the window. The sun was shining through the bitter cold day, and even though the sky was spitting random flurries, it was truly a beautiful day outside. Christmas was coming. It was only twelve days away, and she wanted to have a happy one this year. Everyone deserved a Happy Christmas.

Every so often, a car would whiz by them, so she watched the cars as well as the hills and fields that lay beyond the road, which were crisp and white. For some reason, all of this gave her peace and courage, and she wasn't sure why. Unlike most people, who thought winter was a time of death and dying, she thought it was a time of rebirth. Well, she never thought that before, but she thought it now. She turned back to look at Draco again. He sensed her stare this time, turned to look at her, smiled, and removed his left hand from the steering wheel to grasp her right hand. He gave it a squeeze. It felt right and natural, being in love with him. That didn't mean that her decision was wrong, though.

"I've made a decision," she finally said.

"Regarding what?" he asked, glancing sideways at her again.

"I want to go home," she simply stated.

"That's where we're going," he answered, somewhat confused.

She removed her hand from his and said, "Not your home, my home."

He was truly bewildered by that statement. "Hermione, your home is gone." He knew that she knew that, so why did he have to remind her? He felt stupid just saying the words, because he knew she hadn't forgotten that it was blown to bits, unless she meant something else. His heart caved in his chest, and then leapt down to his feet. He swallowed hard and waited for the deluge that he knew was coming. He shut his eyes for the briefest of moments, willed himself to stay calm, pulled over to the shoulder of the road, turned off the car, looked at her again, and said, "What do you mean?"

"I want to go back to my mother's house to live. My house. My home. I'm done running away. Since we just left there, I don't have to go back tonight. It'll take me a day or two to get my things together at your place, and then make that place livable again, but I want to be there by Christmas."

He wouldn't look at her. He looked out the front window and said one word. "NO!"

She knew he wouldn't be happy. She didn't want to argue with him, so instead of saying, yes, she asked, "Why not?"

He clenched the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned red. He still couldn't look at her. He continued to look out the front window and said, "It's not safe." That was all he could outwardly say, but his internal dialogue went more like this: _'You can't leave me again, because I won't survive.'_

She reached for his arm, placed her hand on top of it, but he removed it from her grasp as if she burnt him. She recoiled her hand, put both of her hands in her lap, and said, "It'll be fine. You and Harry can put up protection wards and charms."

"No," he repeated.

"I think it's time," she leveled.

"NO!" He opened the car door, and when he got out, he slammed it so hard that the little black sports car rocked back and forth on the side of the road. He paced back and forth by the car. She got out and walked around toward him.

"Draco, I'm an adult, and I can look after myself. All this means is that I will live in one place and you'll live in another, but nothing else has to change, it's not as if I'm leaving you."

"NO!" he shouted as loudly as he could. He really wished he could be more articulate at this stage of the game, but he couldn't. He could barely see straight, let alone speak. He started down the embankment, toward an open field. The snow had just started falling again. He kicked at an overturned rock, and kept walking, afraid if he turned back now, he would say things he didn't want to say…reveal things he was afraid to reveal. How could she think about leaving him again? Didn't she love him at all? When he came to a circle of trees, he turned around, because he knew she was following him. He rushed up to her, grabbed her by her arms, and said, "You are the most selfish person I've ever met! You never consider other people's feelings and wishes!"

Her mouth flew open to protest, but before she could utter a word, he continued. "What about me, Hermione? I really don't think I can survive if you leave me again! I was an empty shell of a person before I fell in love with you, and then I was empty again after you left me. For three years, I felt nothing! I was less than a person! That's how I truly felt, like I was less than nothing." He turned from her and leaned against the tree. He finally showed her his vulnerability, and he was mortified. He had worked hard all these years to hide that side of him, yet here it revealed itself to her, and he was ashamed.

She reached over to touch him, but brought her hand back to her side. She wrapped her arms around her to shield her from the cold winter wind, and from his harsh words, which made her sadder than anyone could ever know, especially since his unhappiness was partially her fault. "Draco," she said his name, but then couldn't say anything else.

She could barely hear his response, because he spoke so softly, and in a graveled-voice whisper. Without facing her he said, "Bully for you for healing, Granger. I only wish the rest of us were so lucky. I wish I could heal so easily. Where's my epiphany? Where are my answers? Maybe I'll never have one of those life changing experiences, and maybe you really don't care, but it's not fair that I was here for you, to help you heal, and then you leave me all alone, and leave my open heart to fester and die without you around to put a plaster on it."

He took several steps away, and still not facing her he said, "How pathetic is that? I'm trying to make you feel guilty, hoping that guilt will make you stay with me. I'm no better than Theo was. I don't want you to feel like you have to stay with me out of obligation or guilt." He finally turned around, she was still by the tree, and he was a small distance away. "I won't say that I'll die without you, because I won't, but bloody hell, Granger, it sure as hell will feel that way. If you leave me, I think I might die inside." He reached in his coat pocket and threw his keys at her. "Drive the Porsche home, won't you." She caught the keys. "I need to go somewhere."

She looked at the keys in her hand and said, "I'm not leaving you."

"It doesn't matter anymore," he said.

This time she did reach for him. She took his hand, and he let her. She said, "Tell me what you're really thinking, Draco. Tell me why you think I'm leaving you."

He kept her hand in his, the fingertips of his free hand brushed down her cheek. It was cold, wind burnt, and red. He pulled her to him so slowly; it was almost like a choreographed dance move. He placed both arms around her and with her cheek on his chest, and her arms around his waist, and his arms around her arms, he said, "When can I have my happiness? I live day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, second by bloody second, just waiting for the next day, the next hour, the next minute, and the next second. I wake up, work, eat, breath, go to bed, and then wait for it to all start again."

"I never have anything to look forward to, but more of the same emptiness. I thought now that you were back in my life; I could look forward to happiness instead of emptiness. It's my right to be loved, isn't it? I want happiness, too. I feel like I'm balancing on a blade of a sword, waiting to fall off one side or the other, but instead of falling off, at the moment, I feel like I've being sliced in two." He pushed her away from him and said, "Never mind me. I'm being pathetic and self-centered. You go have your peace of mind, and your happiness. You deserve it, too. Don't worry about me. I've survived worse."

She shook her head and repeated for the third time, "I'm not leaving you."

"Yes, you really are, in fact, I think you're already gone." He took out his wand and apparated away.

She turned to walk back up the embankment feeling empty and hollow inside. She started over to the driver's side, but she saw something wet, black and slick sliding down the embankment, from under the car. She got down on her hands and knees and placed her hand under the car, to touch the substance. She brought it up to her nose and smelled. She had no clue what it might be. She walked up to the road, and turned her head left to look at where they had just come, and then she turned her head right and saw a big hill that they had yet to drive down, and she knew in that moment that something wasn't right. She took her wand and sent out her patronus to Harry. Then she sat on the hood to wait.


	35. 35 Panic

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 35: Panic:**

Two hours and thirteen minutes after Draco left Hermione by the side of the road he apparated to his back garden. He didn't care if any of his neighbours saw him. He wanted to come home, even if she never wanted to come back here.

To kill time, and so he could clear his head, he had walked around a park for about twenty minutes, but when his nose felt numb from the cold he decided to go sulk indoors somewhere. He went to a little Muggle coffee shop for 16 minutes. After two cups of coffee, he went to see his mother.

He hadn't seen her in such a long time. He didn't know if she would want to see him. She did. They talked, about nothing in particular, for around 34 minutes. Draco wanted to tell her his troubles, but he sensed that she wouldn't appreciate hearing about his sorrows, so he told her work was good, he was healthy, he was happy, and he would see her on Christmas if she wanted. She smiled, offered him some money, which he took, kissed his cheek, and then told him to make it the twenty-sixth instead of the twenty-fifth, because she had plans with friends for Christmas.

Wonderful.

He went back to the road where he left her, an hour and twelve minutes after he left, but of course, she was gone. He regretted throwing such a spoiled fit. Her words, "I'm not leaving you," kept swirling around in his head. She didn't once say she didn't love him, or that she was unhappy with him. She merely stated that she wanted to get on with her life. She never once implied _or_ inferred that she wanted to do so without him. He was such a fool.

He killed some more time at her mother's house. He wasn't sure why he wanted to go back there, but while he was there, he set up some protection wards and anti-apparition charms. He secured the windows and doors with magic, and then he decided it was time to go home and face her.

He walked from his backyard to his garage and started to look inside for his car, when he remembered that her car was in there. He looked by his house and then out on the street, and he still didn't see his car. She was bound to be home by now. Where was she? He saw that the light was on in his kitchen, so he opened the backdoor and saw Weasley and Potter sitting at his kitchen table. They both turned to stare at him as he entered. He felt panicked, suddenly. Something wasn't right, and it wasn't just the fact that two complete poofs were sitting at his kitchen table. It was the fact that they were there, and Hermione apparently was not.

Harry turned to his cup of coffee, and without looking at Draco asked with a firm voice, "Where have you been, Malfoy?"

"Are you keeping tabs on me now?" he asked. He just realized that Hermione was right. He did have a habit of answering a question with a question.

Harry pushed his cup of coffee away as Draco shut the door. Draco walked toward the table as Harry said, "I should fire you."

"On what grounds?" Draco asked, all the while screaming in his head, _"WHERE'S GRANGER?"_

"Dereliction of duty," Harry said back.

Ron said, "You've not been on a bloody holiday, Malfoy. You were supposed to be watching out for her!"

The panic inside Draco, which started when he didn't see his car, continued when he saw Scarhead and Red in his house, and exacerbated when he saw how angry they both were, squeezed his heart until it felt as if it were squirting blood out of his chest. He took a deep breath and finally asked, "Where is she?"

"Why do you care?" Ron asked.

Draco took his coat off and flung it on the floor and said, "Can't I just get an answer from you, you stupid son of a bitch? Is she okay?"

Ron stood up and said, "And like I said, you pile of horse shite, why do you care? When she was injured while I watched her, you acted liked I was lower than the dirt on your fancy black shoes, so don't get all high and mighty with me now, Malfoy! At least I didn't leave her!"

"JUST ANSWER MY FUCKING QUESTION!" Draco shouted.

Harry stood as well, but before he could defuse the situation, Ron said, "Like you care about anybody but yourself." And the next thing Harry knew, Draco ran across the room and knocked Ron over onto the floor. It all happened so fast that Harry hardly had time to react. He pulled Draco off Ron, pushed him toward the wall and shouted, "Stand down, Malfoy!" He offered Ron his hand, which Ron swatted away. "Go outside, Ron."

"NO!"

"I'll fire your arse too, so help me God, I will," Harry seethed.

Ron stood up on his own, kicked Draco's table, and slammed the door so hard that the glass in the window cracked.

Harry looked at Draco, who was still on the floor, and he said, "Two week suspension without pay, Malfoy."

"But your little boyfriend just gets a slap on the wrist?" Draco asked as he stood. He picked up a chair they knocked over, but then threw it against the wall.

"You fought him in your own home, while you weren't on duty, so I could care less about the fight. The suspension is for leaving your charge," Harry said as he picked up the chair that Draco threw.

Draco sat in the chair that Harry had abandoned earlier and with his head in his hands he pleaded, "Please tell me if she's alright."

Harry sat down opposite Draco, in the chair Ron had been in, and said, "After you left her she sent out her patronus to me. She told me later that she had left her mobile phone here and so she couldn't call me."

"Why didn't she drive home?" Draco asked. Why hadn't Harry yet told her if she was okay?

"She noticed that there was some sort of liquid leaking from the car, and she was afraid to drive," Harry stated. "We found out later that someone had cut the brake line with magic. If you two hadn't stopped when you did, you wouldn't have been able to stop, and since the road turned into a large hill, you both probably would have been killed. It was a good thing she was cautious and didn't get in that car."

"She sent her patronus and sat on the hood of the car to wait for me. She said that after a few minutes she was cold so she went to get in the car, when she saw a man apparated on the other side of the vehicle. She said that in a panic, she tried to get in the car, but she dropped the keys, and the doors were locked. She tried to get her wand, but the man, who she said had on a white mask and a long red robe, disarmed her. He then stunned her. She fell over the hood of the car, and then onto the frozen ground."

Draco didn't want to hear anymore. "Is she dead?"

"No," Harry said, almost shocked that Draco would assume that, although Draco thought it was a perfectly reasonable thing to ask. "She said that the person then placed the Cruciatus Curse on her. She said that she never thought she would ever have to feel that pain again. I think that's what has Ron the most upset. After she was cursed during the war, at your house, by your aunt, well, let's just say that he still has nightmare about that."

Draco rubbed his eyes thinking that he still had nightmares about that, too. When Harry stopped talking for a moment, Draco looked up at the other man and said, "What happened next?"

"After he cursed her, he walked up to her, and lifted her from the ground by her neck. He had both hands around her throat and he was choking her when I finally appeared. He heard me apparate. He turned, and before I could stun him, he disappeared. She fell back down on the ground and I helped her to St. Mungo's."

"Is that where she is?" he asked.

"No, she wouldn't stay. She wouldn't even be checked out, because she said she had to come back 'home' before you got here, because she didn't want you to think that she left you, because she said that she promised you that she wasn't leaving you, and she didn't want you to misunderstand the reason she wasn't here. Ron offered to come and wait for you, but she insisted that we bring her back. She's in the bedroom. She took a bath and went right to bed. She didn't even want to eat any dinner."

"She's here?" he asked. _She didn't want him to think that she was leaving him_. He felt like the lowest life form on earth.

"Yes, she's here. She wouldn't tell us why you left her alone. What happened?" Harry asked.

"I guess it was just a misunderstanding," Draco said, though he knew that was an understatement.

Harry asked, "You left her because of a misunderstanding? You had a job to do."

"And I failed. Fire me, or suspend me, which I guess you already did, but I screwed up and I can't change things," Draco said. He stood up and started toward the bedroom. He said, "You can leave now, Potter."

"Malfoy," Harry called out. Draco turned to face him. "You can't let your emotions overrule your duty."

"I have no emotions, not anymore," Draco said drolly. He turned to walk back toward the bedroom.

Harry said, "I'll stop back in an hour to pick her up. Let her know."

This time Draco turned around on his own accord and said, "Where…where is she going?" Panic surfaced again, and he felt overwhelmed.

"I'm taking her to my house until we find this man. We were able to get another magical fingerprint from the spell used on Hermione, and on the spell used to cut your brake line, and the magical DNA matches the magical DNA used to kill her mother. It was definitely the same person, and it couldn't have been Theo's mother, because we're having her watched, and also, because I saw him, and it was a man."

Draco took two steps toward Harry and asked, "What does that mean?"

"Well, Hermione heard him speak. He told her that she was going to die, finally, and he was happy that he was the one to do it. She said that it was Theo Nott's father."

Panic! That awful feeling, which gripped him when he first walked into his house and he didn't see Hermione, and hung onto his frayed nerves like a magnet to metal, was no longer on the fringe, but was now embedded in his entire mind, body and soul. He felt like Potter had punched him. He said, "That man's dead! He died in prison!"

"Yeah well, we're having his body exhumed tomorrow, but she swears that she'll never forget that voice, and that was who it was," Harry said steadily. He walked up to Draco and said, "Are you going to be alright?"

"I was late again, wasn't I?" Draco asked.

"What?"

"Nothing." He was late to protect her at Hogwarts, and if only he had gone back to the car earlier, he might have stopped that man again, but he once again he was too late. He walked to the bedroom and stood outside the door, trying to brace himself for what he might see inside those four walls. He had to prepare for the worst.

Harry walked up to him and said, "I rescind your suspension, and she can stay here." Harry had a feeling that Draco needed her here more than she needed to stay here. He added, "She said that she didn't want to leave anyway." Draco nodded. Harry patted his shoulder and said, "Your car is still be examined for evidence, but will be returned tonight." He turned and walked out the backdoor.

Draco tried to muster the nerve to enter the bedroom. What should he say to her? I'm sorry. I'm a idiot. I know you weren't leaving me. I was a spoiled brat. What would she say in return? Would she tell him it was too late for them? Would she ever forgive him, or was she too scarred, too burdened with bad feelings, ever to feel anything good with him again?

Would he walk in there and find the same crying, broken girl he first embraced outside her mother's house after she found out her mother was dead? He wasn't sure he was strong enough to help her again, especially since he felt he was to blame this time.

He opened the door slowly, sure that she was probably crying her eyes out again. She sat up on the bed as he entered, and closed a magazine that she had been reading. She didn't look as if she had been crying. She had a nasty bruise on her cheek, bruises on her neck, and her hair was a mess (as usual), but besides that, she looked normal. He continued into the room and noticed that she had 'his' pajamas on, and he took that as a good sign.

She sprang up on the bed, walked straight across the top of it, and practically flew into his arms. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. He held her tightly and before he could apologize for being a wretched human being, she said, "I told you I wasn't leaving you, didn't I?"


	36. 36 What's Normal?

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 36: What's Normal?**

He held her tighter and longer than he had ever held her in his life. He seriously wasn't certain he could ever let her go. It was apparent that she felt the same, since she had not yet let go of him either. He finally loosened his arms, brought one hand up to stroke her hair, placed the other hand on her face, pushed her, just an infinitesimal amount, away from him, and he finally said what he had wanted to say the moment he walked into the bedroom. He said, "I'm so sorry."

"Why? You didn't attack me. You may have had a tantrum, and that was a bit extreme, but nothing else is your fault and I won't let you take the blame for it." She tucked her face into his chest and continued. "Oh, Draco, I know it sounds crazy, but it was Theo's father. I know it was. I just know it. Harry thinks I'm crazy, but I'll never forget that man's voice as long as I live. I'm not even sure I would remember what he looked like, as crazy as that sounds." She moved from his embrace to sit on the bed, pulling him close to sit beside her. "I've blocked out most of those memories, and the truth is that I kept my eyes closed during most of my attack back at Hogwarts, but I couldn't block out the things he said to me. I remember each word to this day, and I know it was him."

"I believe you," he assured. He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed her wrist. "You simply have to stay here now, for your own protection and for my peace of mind, but I went back to your mum's house this evening and put up some extra wards, so as soon as we catch the bastard, the house will be ready for you."

"You understand why I want to live there, don't you?" she asked.

"Not really, no," he admitted, "but I'm trying to understand, and I'm trying to be less self-centered, and more focused on you and not me, but it's a hard concept, because I've been selfish most of my life."

At first she thought he was joking, though he seemed sincere, but even with sincerity she found that statement amusing. His admission of egocentricity made her smile, and after the day she had been through, she needed to smile. "I love you." It was all she could think of to say.

"It's high time you realized that, because I'm pretty special," he said with a sardonic grin. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm glad you're now able to be less self-absorb," she joked, with his statement about 'being special'. "May we talk about us for a moment, and not just you?" she asked.

"Talking about 'us' is my second favourite subject after talking about myself," he said with a smirk, "So go at it."

"I want us to have something real and long lasting," she began, "but I don't want to become reliant on you for my safety or happiness."

"Okay," he sighed. He would like nothing more than to rely on her for his safety and happiness, but then again, he was trying to focus on her, right?

"I think I need some normalcy," she stated.

"That sounds boring and lonely, and I don't want that," he said. "I'm just trying to be truthful with you," he added when he saw her disapproving look. "I'll try to be supportive, but bugger this, Hermione; I've waited so long for you. I waited while you were just my friend, I waited while you were with Theo, and I waited while you ran away. I could have found you all those years, you know, but I knew you didn't want found, so I left you alone. I want my life to start, and I need my own sense of normalcy, too, and I want that normalcy with you."

"Normalcy is a funny word," she finally said. "Maybe we should say 'normality' instead."

"You used it first," he accused, smiling. He backed up against the headboard of the bed and spread his legs. He said, "I've wanted to be normal all my life, Granger. I've always felt different. It was hard being a Malfoy and a pureblood. It was hard being Lucius Malfoy's only begotten son."

"You? You think you had it hard? While I'm the first to admit you're slightly below normal, I'm the one that's always been out of place," she said as she crawled up into the space between his legs. He trapped her inside his spread legs by placing both arms around her. With her back against his chest she said, "I was always the prodigy. The anomaly. The brightest witch of her age, so some said, but a Muggle-born. The best friend of the 'Chosen One'. Always a bit on the fringe, bordering on the normal, but in the middle of all the attention, by association with Harry. I crave normality. I think that's one reason I ran away, because I thought I could find it by being alone, but do you know what I found?"

He was rubbing his hands up and down her arms and he sarcastically answered, "What did you find? That you were normal all along, and how boring that was?"

"No, I found that no one ever thinks they're normal. Everyone feels different from everyone else. Everyone has a bit of themselves that they hide from others, and that they'll never really admit to, and that's okay," she explained.

"Shall I tell you what I crave?" he asked, his finger outlining the large bruise on her left cheek.

"Dark hair and a scar?" she asked with a smile. She leaned her head back on his shoulder and lifted her arm, to trace a lightning bolt on his forehead. "Maybe a lightning bolt right about there?"

He captured her hand, and held it in his along with her other hand and said, "I would never crave such a deformity. I said I want to be normal, not abnormal. No, I crave you, and you know what else, Granger?"

"I know nothing, apparently," she said with a slight laugh.

"I also am going to stop feeling hopeless, stop feeling guilty, stop having regrets, stop living in the past, and one more thing, oh yes….I'm going to kiss you now." He shifted her a bit in his arms, so she was leaning against his right arm, across his lap, and he lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed her with sublime tenderness, which made her heart flutter and her muscles ache with need. She felt surging warmth spread through her body as he turned her more, and leaned over her, positioning them both so that they were lying on the bed.

His hand crept under his old shirt she wore, he spread his hand across her belly, and then he clasped her waist. She felt limp, but restless and slightly on edge as his kiss grew in intensity. They hadn't made love since that fateful day more than three years ago, and the truth was, though they had shared a few simple, romantic kisses, as well as plenty of tender moments, since she had come home with him, he hadn't yet hinted that he wanted more. She wanted more. She knew she did. She was waiting for a sign from him that he did as well, and she was certain that the fact that he now had her pressed against the mattress, was on top of her, had one hand on her left breast, and his thigh pressing between her legs, was a sign that he wanted more.

Much more.

She didn't know how it occurred, because she was a bundle of nerves, but somehow he tore her shirt off her, and was drawling her pajama pants down her legs. His hand moved slowly back up her exposed leg, his fingertips soft but explorative as they moved from her ankle, to her knee, to her thigh. He bent down and kissed the valley between her breasts, and he cupped one bra-covered breast with his hand.

She moaned slightly and squirmed underneath him while his mouth continued to part hers, and his hand continued to touch and caress her body, his body rigid and tense beside her. He let his mouth travel to the pale softness of her throat, and his thumb rubbed back and forth under the cup of her bra, on one nipple, until it was hard and erect. His mouth followed the trail along the hollow of her throat, to her pulse point, and then back down to her breast, while somehow the strap of her bra was being pushed down with his hand.

Her heart was beating so swiftly that she felt as if it was replaced with the wings of a hummingbird, because it was fluttering so fast. He stopped kissing her for a moment and he said, "This is normal, right? This is right. This is what we both want and deserve, Hermione."

"I know, but that still doesn't make us normal," she said in jest. He exhaled, knowing that was her permission to continue. He had dreamt of this moment for so long, and nothing short of a meteor, hitting his house and rendering them both unconscious, would stop him now.

Her throat felt tight and she grasped his shoulders so firmly that it almost hurt him, but then he placed his mouth back on her neck, positioned his hand on her throat, kissed her near her ear, and whispered, "Tonight, let's just pretend that we're normal, even if we both know that we're not."


	37. 37 Wordless

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 37: Wordless:**

"Tonight, let's just pretend that we're normal, even if we both know that we're not," he said to her.

"Normal," was all she said back. Then she gave him what he thought looked to be a sad smile, but he wasn't certain. Maybe she was just nervous. He was. He was more nervous this time than he was the first time they had made love over three years ago.

He had to be completely sure they were doing the right thing. He couldn't jeopardize the progress they had made, so he asked, "Are you sure, Hermione?"

"Sure of what," she asked, stroking his cheek. "Sure that we're normal, or sure that we're not?"

He was going to ask her if she was sure that she wanted to make love, but instead he asked, "Are you sure that you love me?"

She laughed. She had the gall to laugh. He frowned and was about to give her a piece of his mind when she leaned up, kissed his lips, and said, "You're so stupid."

"Yes, well, that's neither here nor there," he said, jokingly, but he understood. After all this time, their feelings were no longer unknown to the other. She knew what he felt and he knew what she felt. They were in love, but of course. Wordlessly, he leaned down and kissed her. Her hands came up to the back of his head and pulled him closer still. She moved her hands from the back of his head to his neck, where his pulse throbbed under her fingertips. He couldn't hide the way he felt for her even if he wanted to, which he didn't. He slipped out of his clothing as easily as he removed hers just moments before. As they lay on the bed, him in only his briefs, she in her knickers and bra, Hermione started to giggle.

She was laughing at him again. He smiled at her, and removed an errant strand of hair away from her forehead. She put her hands on his chest and said, "I'm nervous, Draco."

"So you aren't laughing at my body?" he asked with a large grin.

She leaned up slightly, looked over his lean frame, with his long legs, pale, but well defined chest, and his broad shoulders and she started to laugh even more.

"Now come on," he said, slightly perturbed.

She put her hands up to her face, and hid behind them. Her knees bent, her hands still over her face, she said, "I can't help it. Do something to make me less nervous."

"How? You think I'm funny looking, so now I'm nervous, so how can I make you relax?" he asked. He propped himself up on his elbow and pulled on one of her arms, to remove it from her face. He held it above her and said, "Granger, stop laughing."

She continued to smile and she said, "You have a nice body."

"Thank you, I guess," he said. He plopped her hand back on her face and sat up. He turned his back toward her. He was smiling, but she couldn't see, so she was slightly worried. She didn't want him to think that she was laughing at him. She put her hand on his back and dragged it down, so that her fingertips skimmed his skin lightly. He closed his eyes, loving the feeling of her fingers on his skin. She did it a second time, and then a third. Then she sat up, slightly behind him, and kissed his shoulder. She removed her bra and put it on his head.

He turned his head to look at her, her bra still in place on top of his head, halfway covering his face, and they both laughed. He threw her bra behind him and turned so that he was facing her, in the middle of the bed, on his knees. He skimmed her face with his knuckles, starting at her temple, going down to her cheek, her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, and then down the side of one perfectly round, ripe, breast. He leaned forward and kissed her lips once and then he leaned away.

She felt the tingle from that single kiss from her midsection to her toes.

He leaned forward again and kissed her neck. He cupped her breast as his mouth explored her neck and jaw. He let his mouth move back to hers, kissed her again, and while he was kissing her, he gently pushed her onto her back.

He climbed on top of her body, molded his mouth to hers, tormenting, tempting and teasing her with an open mouth kiss. He slowly moved his mouth from her lips to her neck and then he kissed the side of one breast. He blew on the nipple and he watched as it went from flat to erect. He blew on the other and then with one hand on one breast, he attached his mouth to the nipple of the other. He was gentle, but thorough, and she forgot her nervousness, totally lost in the moment and the feeling. Her hands continued to move up to his hair, down his back, and over his shoulders.

He looked at her once more, and wordlessly, with just a smile, he told her that he loved her. She smiled back, and with just as much silence, told him with just a look that she loved him back. They began a wordless exchange of thoughts as they started to make love.

'_You look beautiful'_….heat went through his entire body at the thought of her and his hand went between her legs and stroked her lightly.

'_Calm down, Hermione'_….she willed herself to remain calm. Waves of pleasure coursed through her as she raised her pelvis to meet his demanding hand.

'_I can't believe this is real'_…he had wanted her just like this, so many times, and for so long. His hand went behind her knee and placed her leg over his hip, as he positioned himself between her legs.

'_I'm totally naked and making love to Draco'_… and she no longer cared. Bare body on bare body was all that mattered now.

'_You're everything to me'_…how could he express that thought when he wasn't sure it would last.

'_I've loved you for so long'_…whimpering softly, the thought that she had loved him for so long, and the fact that she had almost resigned herself to live without him made this moment all that more bittersweet. She knew that she could never be without him again; the thought that if she might have to be alone once more made her want to cry, and she finally did cry out as his hand moved from the burning spot between her legs, was replaced by his hard erection, and they were joined together as one.

'_Hermione'_…the feel of her hands on his body, gliding up and down his back urged him to continue.

'_Draco'_….her belly started to contract and her legs shook and his back muscles rippled under her hands.

'_I know, sweetheart, I know'_…he wanted her to feel what he was feeling.

'_I don't know what to do'_…enraptured by the beauty of their lovemaking, and the physical beauty of the man on top of her, she didn't know what was expected of her…so she just felt what he was feeling.

Both of them trembled, touched, fondled and caressed, and soon they reached a pivotal moment in lovemaking…the moment of completion, and the moment of truth. He covered her mouth with his again; his throbbing erection about to explode, and finally, he could be silent no longer. He moved his mouth from hers and he screamed out her name and she bit hard on her bottom lip, and then on his shoulder, and then she was as loud as he was, when she too called out his name.

With deep slow thrusts, he shared with her the feelings that were expected of two people when they have loved each other as long and as strong as they have loved.

After they made love, she lay in his arms and for some unexplained reason she started to laugh again. He shook his head and said, "Stop laughing. I might have to have you committed."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure this is real. Are you real?" She moved her hand from his belly, around to his hip, and pinched his bum. "Yep, you feel real," she finally said as he yelped in surprise.

He said, "You're laughing at me now, and you were laughing so hard at me before we made love that I seriously doubt my sexual prowess."

She chortled again and repeated, "Sexual prowess."

"It's a word," he said, slapping her face lightly.

"I wasn't laughing at your deft use of the word, but at the thought of you having sexual prowess," she said.

He held her tighter, pulled the covers over them both, and said, "I'm so happy right now that you shall not bring me down with insults, Granger."

"That's not my intent," she said, smiling again. She placed her hand flat on his chest, and then she moved her fingers in small circles. "I think it's time we talked, really talked, about everything, don't you?"

What? Was she serious? He couldn't think straight, and now she wanted to talk. He would rather that she continued to laugh at him. He closed his eyes and said, "You talk, and I'll listen."

"I think I hate Theo," she said.

He opened his eyes and frowned. What did she mean by that statement?


	38. 38 Hate is an Feeling, Too

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 38: Hate is a Feeling, too:**

He didn't feel like having a big conversation right now. What he really wanted was to bask in the afterglow of the amazing sex they had just had, fall asleep, have a nice dream or two, wake up in the middle of the night, have sex again, sleep until morning, and then have a big breakfast.

Was that too much to ask?

However, he couldn't let a statement like, "I think I hate Theo," go without notice or comment. He began to comb his fingers through her hair, as she lay with her head on his chest, her hand on his stomach. He was waiting to see if she had anything more to add to that statement, but when nothing more was forthcoming, he asked the dreaded question. "Why?"

She sat up and he felt jilted in a way. He knew he shouldn't have paid her any mind. He should have pretended to be asleep or something. Was she leaving? She leaned over to the floor, and he stared at her bare backside as she reached for her underwear and her sweatshirt. Seriously, was she going somewhere? He sat up as well, but when it was apparent that she was merely putting her things on, while still in bed and that she wasn't going anywhere, he decided to remain naked and fell back down on the mattress with a thud. She struggled into her knickers first, and then she pulled her shirt, (really his, but still) over her upper body and then turned to face him. She puffed up the pillows, moved so she was once more lying beside him and she said, "I really think that he's to blame for most of my problems, and I've never had the gall to blame him until now, but I finally want to blame him."

"Okay," he said. He stroked her chin and cheek with his finger and added, "Blame him all you want, goodness knows I have over the years, but why do you think you hate him?"

"He was selfish, and he didn't care if he caused us pain, and I think he didn't love us half as much as we loved him, so why should we waste anymore love on him?"

He didn't see her logic. He frowned and propped himself up on his elbow. She remained on her back, and he placed his hand on her stomach. He said, "Why should you waste a perfectly good emotion like hate on the man? It's an emotion, too, and it's more destructive than love. You don't really hate anyone, Hermione."

"Yes I do," she said plainly.

"No you don't, you aren't capable of hate," he lectured.

"Don't tell me what I feel, Malfoy," she said with a steady voice. "I need to hate him, because that way I don't have to hate myself anymore."

Draco felt this conversation was beyond bizarre. He also felt that she was wrong, and if there was one thing that Draco couldn't stand, it was when someone was wrong, and he felt the need to point out to her just how wrong she was. "You don't hate."

"I do too."

"No you don't."

"Damn it, Draco," she said, sitting up, "I thought we could have a nice conversation, examine our feelings, start to heal, but instead, you want to fight."

"A nice conversation?" he asked, incredulously. "About hate?" She was officially bonkers. He sat up as well and said, "I don't want to fight. If you're really interested in what I want, I want to go to sleep, have sex again, go to sleep some more, and then have a big breakfast in the morning."

She glared at him and then she threw back the covers and started to leave the bed. He clamped his hand down on her arm. He said, "Stay here. Fine. Tell me all about your hate for a dead man, Hermione. Tell me why you hate a man who loved you. Tell me why you hate a man who was ill and couldn't help the way he felt. Tell me why you hate a man who killed himself, rather than face a sad and depressing life."

She removed her arm from his hand but remained on the bed. She said, "No, why don't you tell me why you don't hate a man who ruined our chance at happiness. Tell me why you don't hate a man who manipulated us, even in death. Tell me why I shouldn't hate a man who could have probably stopped his father from raping me, but instead, after her saw it was he, wanted to leave. Tell me why I shouldn't hate a man who kept me by his side by making me feel guilty and by making me think I was responsible for his happiness!"

She placed both hands over her face and turned so that her back was facing him. She pulled the covers back over her legs and started to cry.

"Oh, don't cry," Draco said with malice.

"Oh, go to hell," she said back.

"I've been there and it's not what it's cracked up to be," Draco responded. Well now, he was wide-awake. He threw his side of the covers off his body and reached for his jeans. He pulled them on, grabbed his sweater, threw it on, and walked out to the kitchen table. He sat down and banged his fist on the top.

Damn her.

He took a moment to reflect on what she said, became even angrier with her, and the reason was that _she wasn't wrong_! She was right! She was right to hate Theo and what was more, he thought he hated him, too, but he was always too ashamed to admit it. He thought it made him seem like a bad or evil person to admit, even to himself, that he hated him.

Theo _was_ a selfish person. He didn't care if Draco loved Hermione. Unlike Draco, he wouldn't have given her up for his best friend, the way Draco did for him. He only knew that he wanted her for himself, so Draco's feelings didn't matter. During the final battle, when they came upon Hermione and the Death Eaters, Theo wanted to help until he saw that one of them was his father, and then he couldn't get out of there fast enough.

The worst thing of all was that he never once acknowledged, to either Draco or Hermione, what his bastard of a father did to her. He acted liked he conveniently forgot the whole thing ever happened, but a person didn't just forget something like that.

Draco and Hermione offered him help more times than Draco could count, but he never once wanted help. He was content to be sad. He was content to wallow in his depression. His final act of selfishness was the day he killed himself, and he laid all the blame right at Hermione and Draco's feet. He didn't even take responsibility for that.

Now his bastard father was trying to kill Hermione. He _did_ kill her mother. Hell yes, Hermione hated him. Draco hated him, too. He didn't want to, because Theo was once his best friend, but the man was dead, and Hermione and Draco were still alive, and if they needed to hate him to find their own peace, then who had the right to judge them. They didn't have to admit their feelings to others. They could keep them to themselves. That was all she wanted to do. She just wanted to admit her feelings aloud to Draco, and he wouldn't let her.

He looked up, because he sensed that she had come into the room and was watching him. He held out his hand for her. She walked toward him and held out her hand as well. They held hands. Draco stood up and said, "Does it make me a bad person to say that I hate my dead best friend?"

"No," she answered. She put her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. "Does it make me a bad person to say that I hate my former fiancée?"

"Yes," he joked. She looked up at him quickly and he said, "I'm just trying to be truthful. You're a very bad person, Hermione and it's time you owned up to the truth."

She laughed and put her head back on his chest. He stroked her back and kissed the top of her head. "We're both good people, Draco. Theo wasn't a bad person either, and you're right after all, we don't really hate him. We could never hate him. But we hate what he did to us."

"Well, hell, you should have said that in the first place," he scolded, holding her tight. "That sounds ever so much better. We hate what he did to us, not _we hate him_. Get your stories straight next time, Granger." He smiled into her hair and then pushed her away slightly and said, "Can we either go to sleep or have sex again? I want something to go my way tonight."

"I swear, you can be so stupid," she barked, pushing away from his arms. She took his hand and said, "Come on, then." She started to pull him toward the bedroom.

"Sex or sleep?" he asked.

"Come with me and find out," she laughed. Hermione glanced in the dark living room as they made their way down the hall toward the bedroom and she gasped and then ran behind Draco.

"What is it?" he asked.

He looked quickly into the living room and he saw why she gasped. He let out a line of expletives, realized that he didn't have his wand, pushed her into the bedroom, ran in after her, and shut and locked the door. He reached for his wand first, then his phone, which he left on the bedside table, and he said, "Stay quiet and get your wand!"

He pushed her down onto the bed, kept one hand on her shoulder as he opened his phone, and scrolled the menu for Potter's name. He had to scroll through almost the entire list since he had Harry listed as 'Scarhead'. He reached the 'S's', pressed the green button, and when Harry answered Draco said, "Potter, get some Aurors and come to my house right now. There's a dead man in my living room."

_A/N: Now who in the world is he referring to, I wonder?_


	39. 39 Dead, but Still Alive

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 39: Dead, but Still Alive:**

Hermione was shaking all over, and Draco was yelling into the phone at Harry. "Potter, I thought the wards would keep everyone out! I thought you were the best in the business, and my measly little wards were no match for yours, so you set new ones, but he still got in! He could have murdered us while we were making love!"

Hermione looked up at him and slapped his arm. "Don't tell Harry we were having sex."

Draco gave her a funny look, and said, "Is that all you have to worry about right now? Make yourself useful and put up some protection spells so he can't come in the bedroom!"

"Let me up and I will!" she harked. He still had his hand on her shoulder, so that she couldn't stand up from the bed.

Harry said from his end of the phone, "Will you both shut up and tell me who's in your house!"

"Who did Hermione stun in the battle at the Department of Mysteries fifth year, Potter? Who attacked her at Hogwarts during the final battle? Who is trying to kill her now? Merlin's beard, man, is there a brain behind that scar of yours?" Draco sputtered.

"So it's Theo Nott's father?' Harry asked, not believing a word. "But it can't be!"

"Really, tell him that, he's sitting on my couch as we speak!"

"We haven't had time to exhume his body yet," Harry started.

"Well don't bother now, because I'm pretty sure he won't be in the grave, since he's alive and well and sitting ON MY BLOODY COUCH!" Draco held the phone away from his hand and screamed!

He folded the phone and said, "Potter is a moron, agreed?"

Hermione shook her head no and finally struggled out of Draco's grasp and said, "Let's just disapparate away from here."

"That's a problem, thanks to Scarhead. He made anti-disapparating wards so that you couldn't leave. I can, but you can't," Draco explained.

"Harry is a moron," Hermione said. She crossed over to the other side of the room and added, "Why is he just sitting out there. He could have easily killed us! How long do you think he was out there?"

"No clue," Draco said. "Listen, I'm going out there," he decided.

"NO!" she shouted. "Please, no, don't leave me!"

"I have to," he said, "because this is ending, here and now. I'm tired of the Notts dictating my life."

Hermione said, "Wait a moment." She ran and got her wand and then she pulled on her pajama pants. She pointed the wand toward the wall opposite the bed and said a spell so that the wall between the bedroom and the living room appeared transparent, and they could see the man as he sat on Draco's couch.

"That's a handy spell," Draco said.

"I do have my moments," she gushed.

They both walked up to the 'window' in the wall and spied the other man in the living room. He was sitting on the couch, but he wasn't moving. He wasn't doing anything. He was merely sitting there, staring at something in his hand.

Draco said, "He's not even moving."

"I know, it's odd," she answered. She pulled on Draco's arm. "He didn't seem to see us when we were in the hall, either. He's just sitting there staring at something. I don't think that's a real person," Hermione stated.

"Maybe he really is dead. Maybe he's an Inferius," Draco stated. Draco leaned even closer and he added, "He does seem a bit stiff, but then again, he has been dead for years."

Hermione slapped his arm and said, "He's not an Inferius, or a ghost. I can tell. He's breathing, see? Do you really think this is the time for jokes, anyway?"

He smiled slightly and said, "I don't know the proper time and place for anything anymore. This whole thing has me on edge." He turned back to look at the man. "He's not moving a muscle. If he's not a corpse, and he's not a ghost, and he's not an Inferius, then I think it's a hologram or something."

Hermione said, "Do you mean a three-dimensional photographic image of an object that is a photographic record of light interference patterns produced using a photographic plate and light from a laser?"

Draco stared at her with an open mouth and then finally said, "Must you show me up at every turn, when there aren't even other people present? Can't you just accept that I'm smart, too, without having to give the exact dictionary definition of a Hologram? I mean, who is even here with us to impress with your brains, Hermione?"

She bit her bottom lip, then smiled, and said, "You're right, I'm sorry."

"I'm going out there," Draco repeated. "If this is someone's idea of a joke, then it's not funny."

She stopped him as he walked toward the door and said, "It might be a trick. Let's wait for Harry, please."

As they were discussing these things, their hologram theory went up in smoke as the man on the couch stood and walked over to the shelf above the telly. That was when they saw that he had a picture in his hand. It was the one of Draco and Theo, which Draco had removed from the shelf above the television, and had placed on the mantel. Hermione gasped and turned Draco around to watch, as the man reached up to the shelf and took down the other picture of Draco, Hermione and Theo on graduation day. Hermione placed the picture there, because Draco had removed the one of just him and Theo.

The man stared at the picture for several long moments, and then stared at the first one in his hand again. He compared the pictures, then he reached up and put the first one on the shelf, and he took the one of the three of them, turned toward the doorway that led to the hall, and walked to the bedroom door. Hermione stood behind Draco, and they both faced the door to wait.

The man was at the threshold, and pushed the framed picture in the crack under the closed door. He asked, "Was this picture a lie?"

Draco looked at Hermione and she shook her head in confusion. What did the man mean? Whom did he mean to answer? Draco walked up to the door and then pointed toward Hermione and whispered, "Do your little see-thru spell thing at the door."

Hermione pointed her wand at the door and it became transparent. The man was leaning against the door, with his forehead against the wood. Draco walked up to the door and said, "That picture is a real picture, if that's what you're asking." He bent down, picked up the picture, and tossed it on the bed. Hermione stood behind him.

"No, what I mean was, were you really Theo's friends? Were both of you his friends?" he asked.

Hermione assumed that he hadn't heard their conversation about 'hating Theo' earlier, so she said, "Yes, we loved him a lot," because after all, that was also the truth. She said, "He was our best friend."

"Yet you both betrayed him," he said.

Draco frowned and said, "We didn't betray him. We tried to help him at every turn for years. He was ill. He was sick and depressed for a long time. He killed himself, we didn't kill him."

"That's not what I heard," he said. "My wife told me that you both killed him with your lies and betrayal. She said it was in retaliation against me for what happened to the Mudblood at the final battle."

Draco looked back at Hermione and then turned toward the door and said, "Let me ask you something, how long have you been alive, well, I mean, Theo's mum told Theo and all of us that you died in prison years ago."

"That was a lie she fabricated," he answered. "We worked out a way to make it seem that I died, and then she brought me home and kept me a prisoner once again, only this time my accommodations were a bit better." He moved away from the door and leaned against the other wall. "She told my son I died. I longed to see him, but she said that we couldn't tell anyone that I was alive, not even Theo, because he was involved with the Mudblood, Hermione Granger."

Draco reached back for Hermione's hand. They moved closer to the door. The man said, "She made me believe that Theo was tricked into falling in love with her by you both so that you could seek revenge against my son for my transgressions against the girl. His mother said that you killed him. She wanted revenge for our son's death against the Mudblood for so long, but the girl all but disappeared for three long years. Finally, years after my son's death, she came up with a plan to kill the Mudblood's mother, so that the Mudblood would have to reveal herself, and then I was going to kill her. Neither of us blames you, Malfoy. You were tricked by the Mudblood, too."

Draco was angry and he said, "No one tricked anyone, and your son really did kill himself. You can see the bloody Auror's report if you want, but he used magic to make sure that his car went off the embankment, and it crashed, and he died, because he was sick of being sad and depressed. That's the truth." Well, there was a bit more, but the man didn't need all the details.

Hermione sighed and went up to the door. Draco grabbed her by the waist and stopped her. She turned in his arms and said, "I just want to tell him something." He nodded, but kept one arm around her waist as she approached the door.

"Mr. Nott," she started, "I loved your son as much as I sometimes hate him for the things he did. He should have gotten help. Draco and I tried to help him for so long, but he refused. He manipulated things the way he wanted them to go, thinking that it would help him be happy, but nothing helped. That's not my fault, and that's not Draco's fault. To blame us for his death would be wrong, but I'm sure you don't care what I have to say. Goodness knows I don't care about you. You raped me when I was a young girl! You taught your son nothing but hate and lies, but somehow he still had compassion and love, although I'm sure that your indoctrination of hate to him from the time he was a child was at a constant war with the good side of him."

"That was probably the reason for his later depression. I think that when he thought you died, he was secretly happy, but to admit as much would go against what he was supposed to feel, because as much as he loved you, he also hated you, and that was a lot of guilt for him to handle."

"But that's neither here nor there. You killed my mother, you have tried to kill me for weeks, and I'll tell you something, you will pay for those sins. You'll pay, and you'll waste away in prison, where you should never have left, and you'll have to live with the fact that things you did attributed to Theo's death just as much as anything you imagine Draco and I did. That's the truth. We were his friends. We loved him and we miss him everyday, and his death has skewed our lives for too long, and we won't have it any longer."

Draco smiled and kissed the back of her neck. He was so proud of her. Theo's father remained motionless once more. He seemed to be a broken and bitter man, and he seemed confused as to what to do next. The decision as to what to do next was taken out of his hands when a flash of white light blinded them all. Draco shielded Hermione with his body, and though a wall and door separated them, with the 'transparent' door, they were still overwhelmed by the flash of light.

Harry Potter and a team of Aurors surrounded the man and bound him magically. Draco and Hermione turned back toward the door just as Harry was pointing his wand toward it. Harry yelled, "Hermione, Malfoy, are you two okay?"

Draco opened the door and Hermione ran out into Harry's arms, just as Ron and two other Aurors were taking Theo's father away. Draco couldn't help himself; he placed his arms around both Hermione and Harry, and held them both tightly.

Harry looked up at Draco, who was behind Hermione, and he said, "You know, your earlier suggestion that we use Hermione as a sort of bait gave me the idea to lower the wards so that he could enter your house, although I had no clue he would enter so soon after I lowered them. I should have told you. I was really outside with the other team members when you called me. You were in no danger at anytime."

Draco removed his arms from around them both, and pulled Hermione away from Harry. He said, "And to think, I was about to change your name in my phone from Scarhead to Potter! Now I'll change it to Stupid Bloody Wanker!"

Hermione turned to Draco and said, "You wanted to use me for bait?"

"It was an errant thought and a half-arsed suggestion, and by the way, I think you should blame Potter for this, not me. I didn't know he was going to do that," Draco said.

"Oh well, it worked, and its all over, and that's all that matters," Hermione said with a shrug.

"Are you kidding me?" Draco spat as Hermione went back into Harry's arms. "You are kidding me, right? Potter lies and manipulates us and you aren't even angry? Everything is fine! You should hate the stupid prat!"

"Oh Draco," she began, as she left Harry's arms and put her arms around Draco's waist. "Hate is a wasted emotion, remember?"

Since when did she ever listen to him? Draco frowned at Potter but held her tight. She had a point, however. It was over. It was all finally over.

_A/N: Was it too anti-climatic for you? Well, all I can say is it's not over!_


	40. 40 AntiClimatic, my foot

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 40: Anti-Climatic, my foot:**

Hermione stood in the middle of the living room at her mother's old house, her current residence, and she cocked her head to the side. Then she cocked it to the other side. "It's still crooked," she exclaimed.

Draco crawled out from under the tree, dusted off his shirt and his slacks with his hands, and said, "It's the best I can do. Use magic to straighten it, for Merlin's sake."

"No, it's a hard and fast rule of mine never to use magic for decorating my tree," she said. That wasn't true, because she just made that up, but she smiled at him sweetly, and she knew he believed her because he got back down on his hands and knees, and began to adjust the trunk of the tree again, as it stood in the tree stand.

"How's it now?" he asked.

It was still slightly off-kilter, but she said, "Fine." She took some mistletoe and stood behind him as he rose from his knees to stand.

He turned to around to face her and when he saw the mistletoe he said, "What happens if I don't want to kiss you."

"Well, I remember Luna Lovegood once said something about nargles and mistletoe, I believe, so unless you want a nasty nargle to attack you, I think you had better kiss me," she expounded.

He placed his hand on her cheek, his thumb rubbed her bottom lip, and he said, "What's a nargle?"

"No clue," she answered.

He smiled, leaned forward, and brushed his lips with hers. "Ah, that was nice," he remarked. When she turned toward the box of ornaments, he reached for her waist, pulled her back to him and said, "One more time, with feeling, though, just to be sure. I believe I see a little nargle hiding in the fireplace." He put his hand behind her head, pressed her whole body against his, and kissed her deeply.

When they parted she asked, "Am I nargle free now?"

"Nary a nargle in sight," he said back.

He picked up a box of ornaments, stood beside her to place them on the tree, and said, "By the by, Granger, are you sure you don't want me to spend the night tonight, just to make sure you're okay. It's your first night at this house."

"I really think I need to do this by myself, Draco. Anyway, tomorrow is the 23rd, and we plan to go shopping remember, so you'll probably spend the night since we'll be out shopping all day, and you'll be too tired to go home."

"Not too tired for sex, though," he interrupted.

Acting as if she hadn't heard him, she continued, "And then the day after that is Christmas Eve, and I'll definitely want you to stay over that night. Let me have tonight by myself."

He knew she was right, and he knew that she would be fine. Theo's father was back in prison, and her house was under more protection spells and wards than any other house in probably all of London. The only thing that nagged at him was that Theo's mother was missing.

Harry had gone to arrest her shortly after arresting her husband, and she was already gone. The house was still being watched, so it was odd that she had escaped. Harry insisted that they had even put a trace on her, but somehow, she had evaded that as well. It had been days since her husband was captured, and for Draco it had been days of walking on glass, waiting for it to break.

Hermione could feel his strain, and she felt it was well. She was slightly apprehensive that the woman was now missing, but she wouldn't, no…couldn't, stop living again because of that woman. She would never again let another person dictate to her how she should live her life. Never again. She was living for herself now, and nothing and no one would stop her living it as she wanted.

They finished decorating the tree, the entire time eating sweets, drinking eggnog, singing Christmas songs (hers were real songs, his were naughty, made up, songs), and when they were finally finished, they stood back and admired their Christmas tree. It was the first tree they would share, the first of many he hoped. She put her head on his shoulder and he turned off the lights in the room with a flick of his wand. Then he turned the lights on the tree with a similar flick. The soft glow of yellow, green, blue and red lights swirled around them, and Hermione was filled with peace. It had been so long since she had felt this happy. She simply had not allowed happiness in her life for so long, and she almost didn't recognize it. It overwhelmed her a bit, and she turned slightly in his arms, placed both of hers around his neck, and buried her face in his chest.

"What's wrong, Granger?" he asked.

"I'm so happy. Is that wrong?" she asked him.

"Terribly wrong," he said as a joke. She smiled without looking at him. "Don't you think it's time for you to feel happiness?"

"Shouldn't I feel just as sad, though?" she inquired. They looked at each other, her face cast in the soft glow of the twinkling Christmas lights. "It's the first Christmas without my mum, and she's not been gone very long."

"Your mum would want you to be happy. Have a Happy Christmas, and be truly happy for your mum, Hermione."

She nodded, because she knew he was right.

They snogged on the couch for a while, ate a small dinner, and then he apparated away. He wasn't going directly home. He had some last minute Christmas shopping to do and he wanted to do it without her. Before he left, he told her he would return bright and early for their day at the Muggle mall. He wasn't looking forward to it, but he would do anything for her, even tolerate a mall full of Muggles.

Hermione showered and dressed for bed. She had repainted her old bedroom, but decided to make it a study. The bedroom at the front of the house was the best bedroom in the house, with its nice view, large windows, and private bath, so she decided to make it her bedroom. She would no longer think of it as her father's tomb, which was what it was for so very long. She painted these walls, too. She moved in different furniture, and she now only thought of this as _her_ room.

She sat on the side of the bed, rubbing lotion on her legs, and she thought she heard a noise downstairs. She listened for a moment, but didn't hear anything else, so she decided it was her imagination. She decided that she would ask Draco to get her a cat for Christmas. She needed another living thing in the house with her. She might even ask Draco to move in with her. She smiled when she thought about that, because the entire time they moved her in he kept making hints, such as, "Won't you be lonely in this big house by yourself?" and "Two people can live as cheaply as one, or so they say." Once he even said, "My house is just a house, but this house is a home." She laughed at the time when she thought how clichéd that sounded, but now she thought it was sweet, and probably true.

She had already decided to invite him before he started with his hints. She only wanted a few days by herself first.

She went downstairs, crossed the living room, and went to the den. She sat in her father's old chair and turned on the telly to an old Christmas movie. She placed a pillow on her lap and rested her head on the side of the chair. She scanned the room for a moment, and her gaze rested on a picture of her Mum and Dad on their wedding day.

Hermione stood up and walked over to the table where the picture was placed. She picked it up, kissed the picture once, and said, "You both seemed so happy." She backed up toward the couch and sat down. She continued to look at the picture, a Muggle picture, so it wasn't moving, and she said, "I'm sorry I ran away from home for so long Mummy, but I'm back now. I wasn't running away from you, you know, but I was running away from myself, if that makes sense. I was afraid I would turn out like all of them….Daddy, Grandma Helen, Theo…all of them. I didn't take into account that I was more like you than I was like them. I was strong enough to survive my sadness."

"And I should have known I was strong, because of you. You forced me to get help after my rape, even though I didn't think it was necessary, because you knew there was a history of depression in our family, and you refused to let it get its grip into me, so I thank you for that, Mum. You saved me."

"I realized something else. It's that I'm strong enough to feel both happy and sad, and that I really don't want to die. I'm going to fight hard to live, I'll fight hard to feel, and I'll fight hard every day to have happiness, I promise. It's the least I can do for you. I'm going to have a Happy Christmas, Mummy. A happy one. I love you."

She started to cry as she stood to place the picture back on the table. She turned off the television. She was lonely, and she knew only one way to relieve that loneliness, and she should have realized it before – she needed to be with Draco. She loved him and she wanted him close by. She was done pushing people away. She didn't want to be alone tonight, and maybe not ever, not because she was scared, but because he made her happy.

She smiled at her small epiphany, ran to her bedroom, and quickly dressed. She was going to apparate to his house, but decided there was something she wanted to do first. She wanted to have a key made for him of her house. She would give it to him as an early Christmas present. It would be mostly symbolic, since as Wizards, they didn't need keys to enter houses or to lock doors, but it would be the thought that counted. He would know that it meant she wanted him to be with her forever.

He would know that she wanted to make her home with him, and she was certain he would accept.

She looked at her watch. It was only 7:47 in the evening. Surely, some place was open that could make her a copy of her key. Everywhere was open late before Christmas. She would just give him her mother's key, but she wanted to keep it for herself, for some sentimental reason.

She took her mother's keys from the hook on the back door, and saw her Mum's car key on the same ring. She would drive there, since the DYI store, which made keys, was in a Muggle Mall. She slipped on her coat, and ran out to the garage. She had a moment's hesitation when she recalled that both Draco and Harry warned her not to go out alone until they found Mrs. Nott, but what if they never found her? She wouldn't live her life in fear.

She got in the car, and turned it on. She let it warm up and then backed it out onto the street. She drove down her two-lane road, and when she reached the main road, she turned right. It was snowing, and the roads were slick, so she drove slower than she normally would have. She was about to come to the crossroad that would take her to the main intersection when she spied an accident up ahead. There were red lights and sirens. She put her foot on the brake to stop, but the brake wouldn't respond.

As her car careened toward the intersection, she had one thought, "NO!"

She turned the wheel, but on the slick road the car hydroplaned, and turned around and around before it broke through a barrier and headed down an embankment, toward a rampant river below.

Damn. Hermione's happiness could not end like this! The car crashed through trees, bushes, and brambles, and hit the water with a resounded splash. The current quickly took the car within its clutches, the car swirled, and bounced, and then it began to sink. Fear trapped her as readily as the impending darkness and water was about to trap her. She tried to undo her seatbelt, but it wouldn't budge. The car was sinking fast, and the water was now up to her door. She couldn't roll down the window, because it was automatic, and the engine had died.

She searched for her purse, which was on the floorboard, already covered in icy, cold water. She had two options. Get her wand or her phone. No, she decided she had three options. She could get one or the other, or both. She grabbed her purse, found her wand easily, tucked it under her arm, and then in the dark car, and her deep purse, she searched for her phone.

She found it, opened it, and pushed the number for Draco. He answered it in two rings.

"Hey, Granger," he said. He had just arrived home and there was a note on his door address to him, and the outside envelope read that it was from her. He answered his phone while removing the note. Before she could speak he said, "I just got a letter from you, did you know that?"

"Draco, I'm dying!" she yelled into the phone.

Draco's insides clenched and he said, "What? Where are you?"

"I don't know! My car crashed! I'm sinking into a river off old Mulberry Road. Help me, please!" She said no more, but closed her phone. The water was now up to her waist. She pointed her wand toward the window, said a spell that should have broken it into a million pieces, but it stayed intact.

Draco dropped the note, and apparated to her house. He had no idea where, "Old Mulberry Road" was, but he would trace her from her house. As he started the trace, he called Potter on his phone, it was easier this time because Draco now had him listed as Arsehole instead of Scarhead, and when Harry answered he said, "Hermione's dying!"

Hermione came to the realization that someone had used magic to make the windows of the car unbreakable. All she could do was sit and wait for help, because one thing was certain, she sure as hell wasn't going to die, especially the way Theo had died!

The note, which Draco had dropped on his step, wasn't from Hermione, but if he had read it, he would never have known that, because it looked to be in her handwriting, and it was a suicide note, telling him goodbye.

_(A/N: Ha, ha, ha…evil laugh. So, I played an evil trick before, with the anti-climatic ending of the last chapter. I guess the real bad guy is a woman. I also suppose that I will just have to have one more chapter right? On the other hand, I could just end it here, if you would all rather…)_


	41. 41 The Conclusion

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 41: The Conclusion**

Fear gripped her very soul. She cried aloud. She shivered all over, both from the cold and from fear. Though only a few minutes had past since the car careened and lurched into the river, Hermione felt as if she had been in the icy tomb forever. She willed herself to calm down. She closed her eyes, and with her wand tightly in her hand she tried to disapparate to the road, something she would have done right away, if she hadn't been beside herself with fear.

Nothing happened. Okay. Perhaps the same curse, (charm?) that made the windows unbreakable by magic kept her from disapparating. She tried to cast a warming charm next, figuring if that worked, then at least when the water got as high as her head, she would be able to use the bubblehead charm, and breathe for a while, or at least until she was rescued.

The warming charm failed. Now she was more than afraid. What word described life-threatening fear? Frightened. That didn't seem strong enough. Scared, terrified…they didn't grasp the full feeling either. Anxious was not nearly a strong enough word. Hermione found that the longer she searched for a synonym for "fear", the longer she remained calm. How odd. What other words described fear? Trepidation, apprehension, panic, alarm? Those all worked.

The water was now to her chest. She started to cry again. She reached for her phone, which she had placed on the dash, just as it started to slip. The car was leaning forward. This whole situation would be twice as bad if the car turned upside down.

"Draco, please, help me," she said through her tears and chattering teeth.

She wondered at that moment what Theo felt as his car went over the embankment, and down through the woods, and into the water. Even if his intention was to die, he must have felt afraid. Hermione felt sad for him. She thought she might feel sadder for him than she did for herself.

Draco began on foot, using a magical trace; tracing the path Hermione's car traveled. He began to run, reaching the end of her road quickly, and coming to an intersection marked, "Mulberry Road." He looked to his left and then to his right. Which way did she go? He pulled out his phone and dialed Hermione's number. He scrolled through the names, going past Arsehole (Potter) Ginger (Weasel) little boy (Timmons) to finally reach his 'phone' name for her. It was 'Love'. He pushed the green button, and willed her to answer. "Answer, Hermione!"

The water was to her chin. She was no longer crying, because she was rational enough to know that she needed to conserve oxygen. Her wand in her left hand, and her phone in her right, she held them both above the water, but it would only be a matter of time before they were covered, because soon she would be completely enveloped in the cold, dark, black depth of the rapid river. She should have told Draco goodbye. She should have told him that she loved him. Who in their right mind called someone and said, "I'm dying." That was stupid. She would drop her wand and dial her phone to call him, she decided, when her phone rang. She saw his name appear. She pushed the button with her thumb.

"Draco?" she pleaded.

"Which way did you turn down Mulberry Road?"

"Right, and then I traveled almost to the end of the road, toward the intersection. There was an accident at the intersection. Go there first. There might still be police and an ambulance there. Get help first. I don't know how far the current has taken me, but I'm traveling east. The river goes east to west. Oh, by the way, I love you and if I don't get to tell you, goodbye, then goodbye."

"Shut up and let me think," he said. He didn't mean that to be rude. He didn't really want her to 'shut up', but how dare she tell him goodbye. That was bloody bad form, in his opinion. He ran down the road, oblivious to the freezing snow and rain, and hidden by the oncoming cars due to the dark. He suddenly had an idea. He shouted into the phone, "Apparate out of there."

"I can't. I've tried. Someone put anti-apparition wards on the car. I can't get out of the seatbelt, I can't break the windows, and I can't even do magic. Can you imagine? The one thing that would have saved my life, and I can't do it," she said lightly. "Draco, hurry, the water's to my chin now. I'm really afraid."

He said, "Don't hang up the phone." He pointed his wand in the air and said, "Point me to Hermione." The wand pointed directly across from him. He ran across the two-lane road, toward the embankment. He could tell that this was where her car went over the embankment and into the river, by the tracks in the snow, and the broken tree limbs and damaged foliage. "Are you still there?"

"Yes," she said.

"I found where your car went off the road," he said as he slid down the embankment on his rear end.

"Did you get help?"

"I don't have time," he said.

"Draco," she pleaded again.

He said, "Fine, I have to call Potter."

"NO!" she said frantically, "Don't hang up on me! Please!"

"I'll call you right back."

"Please!" she said in a weak voice.

He had no choice. He pushed the red button, and then pushed the button for Harry.

"Where is she?" Harry asked, as he answered his phone. "I'm at her house."

"Apparate here. I'm on the bank of the river. I see where her car went in, but I don't see the car. The river's current is very fast."

"Send up sparks," Harry demanded, "or else I won't know where to apparate."

"What if Muggles see?" Draco retorted.

"Make them red and green and they'll think it's something for Christmas," Harry spat.

Draco sent up the sparks, and a few seconds later, Harry and Ron joined him, as well as three other Aurors.

"Why doesn't she use magic?" Ron asked.

"The car has wards on it," Draco explained.

Hermione was dying. She knew it. She lifted her head as far as it would go. If only she could have gotten out of the seatbelt, she could have at least had more time, because she could have gotten herself a bit higher in the car. She got her first mouthful of water and she coughed and sputtered.

Did it hurt to drown? She read somewhere that drowning wasn't painful, but that it was scary. How would people know it wasn't painful? How many people who drowned came back to tell the tale? She heard that it would feel like floating. She didn't want to die. Then again, who did? She knew her mother didn't want to die. Even her dad probably didn't want to die. She was convinced, for the first time that even Theo probably didn't want to die.

With her last remaining breath, she said, "I forgive you, Theo."

_She was floating, but not in the water. She seemed to be floating in a black abyss. There was a profound nothingness all around her. She was still aware of everything, so either she was drowning, and the lack of oxygen was causing her to hallucinate, or she was already dead, and this was what death was like, although the latter made her angry if that was really the truth._

"_Hermione?" she heard from behind her. She turned. She saw Theo. _

"_I'm dead, aren't I?" she asked._

"_No, you're not," he said._

"_Are you dead?" she asked._

"_Yes, I am," he answered._

"_Where am I?" she asked._

"_That's not important right now. I want you to know that I heard you. I heard your words of forgiveness, and I want to thank you. With your forgiveness, I'm finally free. I'm sorry if I caused you pain."_

"_Did you really kill yourself?" While she was sinking earlier, the thought crossed her mind that perhaps the person who did this to her, she could only assume it was his mother, also did it to him._

"_Yes, I did," he said, "My last great selfish act."_

"_Don't say that," she said back, even though she once thought the same thing._

"_Why, it's true," he told her. "I was selfish at every turn. I knew for a long time, perhaps longer than you and Malfoy did, that you two were in love, and I discouraged it. I ran interference, and when Malfoy tried to tell me that he loved you, that summer so long ago, I told him that I loved you first, before he could say it."_

"_Oh," she said. She didn't know how else to respond._

"_I did, though. I did love you. Very much," he explained. "I loved you both."_

"_I know, and we loved you," she answered._

"_I did so many things wrong," he said._

"_Stop that," she chastised. "Don't blame yourself ever again. I'm tired of it. It's over and done."_

"_My mother did this to you," he said._

"_I thought so. Am I dead yet?" she asked._

_He smiled and said, "No, not yet, and Malfoy and Potter are just about to save you. You are unconscious though, but I hope you remember this conversation. Tell Draco that I loved him and that I'm sorry I wasn't the friend I should have been. I love you, too."_

"_Wait," she said as she felt him slipping away. "Your father isn't dead."_

"_Yes, I know," he said. "He should be. Thanks again, for forgiving me. I'm ready to have some peace, finally. I think its time, don't you?"_

"_Yes. Rest in peace," she said, adding, "Does that sound weird?"_

"_Slightly, but it's appropriate. I love you."_

_He left her and she was alone._

Draco and Harry saw the car, almost totally submerged, at the exact same time. Harry used his wand to conjure chains, they bound the car with the chains, and using magic, they pulled it out of the river and up to the bank. Draco ran into the water before the car was pulled completely to shore.

All seven Aurors, including Draco, tried spell after spell to break the windows and open the doors. The water was starting to leak from the car, and Draco cupped his hands over his eyes, pressed his face to the window, and looked in the driver's side door. He saw Hermione floating lifeless in the water, her hair floating around her like a halo. He screamed a sound that was a foreign resonance, which reverberated throughout the dark, winter night. It was a sound of despair and longing.

Finally, Timmons arrived and said, "We found her! Mrs. Nott. She confessed to everything!" Then he pointed his wand at the car and said a spell and the passenger side door opened. Water rushed out. Draco ran to that side, falling in the snow once, and he climbed in the car, and unbuckled her seatbelt.

He pulled her to lie on the ground. He shook her and then looked up at Harry and said, "Help her, Harry."

He had never called him Harry before. Odd, but that was what struck Harry as the saddest thing about the scene he was witnessing.

Timmons pushed Draco to the side, and Harry held Draco's shoulder, as the younger wizard started mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. After a few tense minutes, he turned her to her side, and she began to vomit water. Draco came behind her and pulled her into his arms. He disapparated with her to St. Mungos, Harry by his side, as Ron and the other men took the car in for evidence, and Timmons and one other Auror cleaned up the scene.

Hours later, she woke to find that she was in a strange bed. She was cold. She saw Harry asleep in a chair beside her. She felt someone on the bed with her. She turned her head to the left, and saw Draco.

"Hello, love," Draco said, touching her cheek. He touched it gently, as if she might break or bend, and then he drew his hand back to his side.

"It doesn't hurt to drown," she said.

He gave her a frown that turned into a grin and said, "How would you know. You didn't drown. You only almost drowned. There's a difference. Maybe it does hurt to drown."

"No, I think you're wrong," she said softly, with a hoarse voice.

"I think you're wrong," he argued back with as a joke.

"Must we fight right now? I almost drowned," she said.

"Which proves my point, not yours, that you almost drowned," he said.

Hermione closed her eyes. She was tired, plus, if she went back to sleep, she wouldn't have to argue with him about who was right, him or her, especially when she realized that this time, he was the one that was right.

She wasn't sure how long she slept the second time, but when she awoke next, sunlight was bouncing off the gleaming white walls of the room from the small window to her right. This time Draco was in the chair, and he was sleeping.

"Hey, Draco, wake up there," she said.

He woke up and rushed to her side. "How are you?"

"Tired," she admitted. "I have to tell you something."

He crawled back into bed with her and placed his arms around her. "What?"

"I saw Theo, when I drowned," she said.

"Almost drowned," he corrected.

She would let that pass. She said, "Anyway, I saw him, don't ask me how. Maybe it was a hallucination, or my mind protecting me, or maybe it was really him, but I have a message for you. The last thing I said before I went under water was that I forgave him. That was when he appeared. He told me thank you for that, and he said that he was sorry for being selfish, and that he knew that we loved each other longer than we knew it, and that he should have been a better friend, but that he loved us very much. I told him that we loved him, too."

He believed her. Heaven help him, because it sounded as if she was a head case, but he believed her. Moreover, that one thought, that Theo forgave them, that he was sorry, and that he loved them, lifted a weight that had been on Draco's shoulders for years.

"Did he say anything else?" Draco asked.

"Well, just that his mother was responsible for my accident. I asked if she caused his, and he said that no, he really did kill himself, but that he was finally at peace."

"His mother was arrested by Timmons right before we found your mum's car," Draco explained. "He said she confessed right away. She blamed you for her husband's imprisonment and for her son's death. She cursed the car right after your Mum died, knowing you would use it eventually, and she charmed a suicide note to appear on my door the minute you started the car. If you hadn't called me, I would have thought that you killed yourself." He kissed her forehead.

"I wouldn't do that," she stated.

"I know, but the note, which Harry took into evidence, and I only read about an hour ago, sounded pretty convincing," Draco told her.

"That evil woman," Hermione said. "She ruined so many lives. Her son's, mine, my mother's, yours. Stupid bitch."

Draco laughed. "I've never heard you call another woman that word."

"It's not that bad of a word, yet it describes her, don't you agree?" Hermione said.

"I do, I do at that. And, by the way," Draco started, "Timmons saved you. He got the anti-curse from the old bitch after he arrested her, I don't know how he did it so fast, and then he did this kissing thing to you, which made you breathe again."

"Oh, he's so cute, it's a shame I don't remember him kissing me," she said with a slight smile.

"You'll never remember that, and you'll never get a repeat performance," he expounded. "Why did you leave the house tonight?" He wanted to ask that in the beginning, but he didn't want to be too harsh with her, after all, _she almost drowned_.

"I was going to get a key made, and give it to you, and invite you to live with me," she said.

"I wouldn't need a key," he said, confused.

"It's symbolic," she uttered.

"Of what?"

"Of my love and trust for you, and that I want to share a home with you, forever."

"But I could use my wand to get in the house. The wards would admit me," he said. "I could just apparate, too."

She sighed and said, "But the key would…oh, you know what, let's not argue. I don't care. I did what I did, and the reasons don't matter, what matters is whether or not you want to move in with me."

He smiled, laughed, and then brushed his hand down her face. He leaned over and kissed her lips. "I'm already moved in. I thought I would take advantage of your weakened state and move in before you could protest. If I knew you were going to invite me, I wouldn't have been in such a hurry."

"You moved in already?" she asked.

"I really did. Oh, by the way…" he began.

"Stop saying, by the way," she said. "There are other segue phrases. I had time to think about alternative words while I was in the car. I thought of a whole host of words that meant 'fear'. So, think of a different segue phrase besides, 'by the way', okay?"

He looked at her with a strange look, which she mistook for annoyance, but was actually borderline pride. He said, "I was saying, by the way…hell, now I don't know what I was going to say."

"Was it, I love you?"

"No."

"Do you love me?"

"Well, yes," he said with a grin. "Fine, I'll just say that right now. I love you, Hermione. I love you so much, and I want us to be together forever."

"Fine," she mocked. "Now, I have to get some sleep. I'm tired, because I drowned last night." She closed her eyes and she felt his lips brush hers. She opened her eyes back up and said, "By the way, Draco, I love you, too." She closed her eyes again.

He kissed her once more, on the lips, and corrected her by saying, "You almost drowned."

-The End -


End file.
